Never Broken
by cheeky-chaos
Summary: AU. Set after Reunion. Barely a month after Sydney wakes up in Hong Kong, a man visits her and tells her that Rambaldi’s prophecy was just the beginning. And when Syd starts getting memories of another life in another century, things start to get inter
1. Strange Meeting

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. My life went through a rough patch for a while there and I just didn't feel like writing. But I'm better now.

This is an AU story guys. I felt the urge to write another one set during season three, so here goes. Hope you like it!

Cheeky.

Timeline: Set after episode "Reunion" in season three.

Paring: Sydney/Sark!

Story: Barely a month after Sydney wakes up in Hong Kong, a man visits her and tells her that Rambaldi's prophecy was just the beginning. And when Syd starts getting memories of another life in another century, things start to get interesting…

* * *

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter One:

Los Angeles

You know, sometimes I sit and wonder just why my life always turns out so bad. I mean, it seems like every time I find something that makes me even remotely happy it gets destroyed. I must have done something really bad in a past life. Or maybe I'm just cursed. Who knows with me, right?

Seriously, though, my life is weird. I may sound normal enough, but don't let that fool you. For starters, I'm a spy. I used to be a double agent, which, let me tell you, is _so_ not the best choice for a low stress job. Then, after taking down SD-6, I went to work for the CIA – and started dating a co-worker. Also not such a good idea in retrospect. But then how was I to know I would disappear for two years and he would marry someone else?

And professional and private life aside, did I mention I was one of the central figures in a prophecy written by a 15th century Italian lunatic that everyone seems to believe? Because I am. I'm supposed to 'render the greatest power unto utter desolation'. I just wish someone would tell me what it is that I'm supposed to destroy. It might make it a little easier.

So here I am, two years older and none the wiser. I have no memories of the past two years, the man I thought was pretty much my soul mate of the I-will-love-you-forever variety has married another woman and everyone keeps looking at me like I'm about to grow a second head.

But I can at least take comfort in one simple but reassuring fact – I never broke.

And I don't intend to start now.

* * *

I sighed as I threw my keys down on the table by the door. I ran my hands through my hair, shoved my coat and bag on a chair and kicked off my shoes. It had been a _long_ day. I sank down onto the couch with another sigh and hoped I would be able to sleep tonight.

I had just arrived back from a mission in Moscow that had been confronting to say the least. It wasn't the bad guys or the mission itself this time, but Vaughn. Our first mission together since he came back to the CIA. And, of course, his wife had to come along. Life never plays fair, does it?

I can't really help it. It seems to me like it was only yesterday we were planning a romantic getaway together. And now he has a wife. I have to remember that every time I look at him, because I just want to run to his arms and pretend this has all been some sort of bad dream. I can't help it – I still love him.

Doesn't that just suck?

Of course, Sark is just the same as I remember – which is comforting in a perverse, screwed up way. It figures that when my life falls apart, the only thing that stays the same is my evil nemesis. Well, my male evil nemesis anyway. I've often wondered where Anna Espinosa has been for the past couple of years. I always took great pleasure in beating her. But you can't have everything you want.

Wait a minute. Why can't I have everything I want?

It's not like I want much anyway. Just a nice boyfriend to come home to, everyone to forget about that nut Rambaldi and maybe some new shoes. Is that so much? I mean, come on! You can even forget the shoes if it makes it any easier.

Almost growling in frustration, I shove myself off the couch and walked into the kitchen. It felt so strange to be in my new apartment. It was nice and close to the beach and I had Weiss as a neighbour, true, but it just felt so empty. There was no Francie to talk to and no Will to drop by and raid the fridge. They were gone; one dead, one missing. I took a deep breath to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. It was all my fault.

Like I said before, life sucks.

I shoved the memories aside into a corner of my mind, using the same technique to compartmentalise that had helped me to survive throughout my years as SD-6. Without it, I think I would have gone crazy years ago – although I'm not sure I'm not crazy now.

But I'd worry about that tomorrow. Right now I needed dinner. I sighed. That meant cooking. _Great_. The perfect end to the perfect day. Where the hell are the saucepans again? I rummaged through the cupboards, hoping to find what I was looking for. I made a mental note (yet again) to rearrange the kitchens so I could actually find was I was looking for.

Then I heard a noise behind me. Images of fighting Allison Doren filled my head and I wondered, quite crazily, if she had somehow come back to finish the job. I waited to hear the sound again, hoping to gain some more information about the person in my apartment. There…it was off to the right.

I leapt up and spun, my hand going for my gun, which never seemed to be far from my grasp anymore. Only when I had it pointing at the intruder did I finally realise what I was seeing. A strange man stood in the middle of my kitchen, dressed from head to toe in black and looking at me curiously.

"Good evening." He said calmly as his grey eyes stared into mine.

I could see no weapon in his hands, but that didn't mean he didn't have one – and there was no way I was going to let my guard down. A girl never should get too friendly with strange men who suddenly appear in their kitchens late at night. Particularly in my line of work.

"What do you want?" I snapped, my frustration and tiredness making me grumpy.

The man raised a dark eyebrow and smiled slightly. Then he did the strangest thing. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter behind him. I hadn't seen anyone do that since…Sark. But that's a whole other story.

"I wanted to see you for myself." The man said calmly.

Okay. That's strange. I tried another question, still keeping my gun pointed at the man. Not that he seemed to mind. He was strangely relaxed, as if the situation was completely normal. And that was a scary thought. Who had someone point a gun at their head so much that it became normal? I mean, aside from me…

"Who are you?" I asked.

"My name is Gianni Bennetti." The man answered.

Great, that was helpful. I didn't recognise the name, so I asked another question. "And you wanted to see me, why?"

The man gave a small smile, as if somehow amused. "To see if you really were who everyone thinks you are."

Oh, wonderful. Another specific answer. But then, I suppose it would be too easy for bad guys to just tell me their secret plans outright. "And am I?" I asked, trying to figure out just what I was going to do.

The man's smile widened. "You are definitely different that I expected." He said.

I narrowed my eyes at his avoidance of my question. I absolutely hated when people did that, probably because it happened so much in my life. And Sark always did it, too. "You didn't answer my question." I snapped.

"No, I didn't." Bennetti said, pushing away from the wall and walking over to the living room, before he sat down on the couch like he owned the place. "But, yes, you are."

Great. I have a strange man in my apartment who seems only capable of giving cryptic answers, walks around as if he owns the place and completely ignores the fact that I am pointing a gun into his face. And I though this day couldn't get any worse.

Sighing, I looked over at Bennetti. "Do you have anything else to say, or are you just going to sit on my couch all night?" I asked, a little frustrated.

Bennetti turned around so he was looking at me. I found it a little disconcerting to be on the receiving end of that intense grey gaze, but I never let it show. Years of practice of staring down smug people had given me that skill. "The real question is, are you willing to listen to anything I have to say?"

"Oh, don't go all philosophical on me." I snapped. "I've had a _really_ bad day, and I might just shoot you."

"That would just make your day worse." Bennetti said, still sounding amused. "Bloodstains are so hard to get out of carpet."

I rolled my eyes, a little unsure of whether he was being serious or not. "I've dealt with bigger problems than that."

"I'm sure you have." Bennetti said.

There was a moment of silence as we stared each other down, although I had a sense of being measured somehow. I didn't like that. Everyone seemed to be measuring me these days, whether it was to see if I had finally gone crazy yet or if I really was as good as I was said to be. And frankly, I was sick of it. I put as much attitude and confidence into my expression and stance and lifted an eyebrow.

"So?" I snapped.

Bennetti turned grave. "I have come in part to offer you a warning. You are in grave danger, Sydney. Rambaldi's prophecy is merely the beginning of something far greater."

I smiled, but it was without humour. "So everyone keeps telling me." I said dryly.

"Do not ignore the signs, or you will die." Bennetti persisted.

Almost growling in anger and frustration, I just stared at him darkly. "Don't talk to me about people trying to kill me!" I snapped. "I have more strangers and even friends trying to kill me than you could ever imagine. So if you call the bullets, knives and other sharp objects routinely shot in my direction signs, then I get the point."

Smiling, Bennetti rose to his feet, keeping his hands where I could see them. "There is slightly more to it than that, but you seem capable of taking care of yourself." He said.

"I'm so glad you think so." I snarled.

"I have something to give you before I go. Are you going to shoot me if I reach into my jacket?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and tensed my body, ready for anything. "Not if you keep your movements slow and careful." I told him.

Nodding, he reached into his jacket and drew out a brown paper wrapped package. "It was time this was returned to its rightful owner." He said, putting the rectangular object down on my coffee table. "But, Sydney? Be careful. That book is important and can't fall into the wrong hands."

"Why not?" I asked, starting to get annoyed with all this mystery.

"If you read it, you'll understand." He said. "And you'll get some of the answers you seek."

I stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to believe him or not. The fact that he hadn't made a move to attack me yet was working in his favour, but only just. After the day I'd had, beating someone up might make me feel a little better. Suddenly, there was a sound to my right and I whipped around, wondering if Bennetti had been sent to distract me while others snuck into my apartment – but nothing was there.

And when I turned back to the living room, Bennetti had vanished. Wonderful.

Sighing again, I walked around and checked the house for intruders, but found none. It seemed I was alone again. Holstering my gun again in the waistband of my pants, I walked over to the coffee table and picked up the package. It didn't seem to be ticking, so I assumed it wasn't a bomb sent to blow me up. Which might not have been such a bad thing, because at least then I might get some peace.

Dinner forgotten, I ripped open the paper. I might as well see what the book was. I blinked in surprise and stared at the book curiously. It wasn't what I expected. The book was large and leather bound, smelling faintly musty. As I looked at the cracked cover and yellowed pages, I realised it was also very old. Another Rambaldi manuscript?

Before I could open the book and find out what exactly it was, the phone rang, jolting me out of my thoughts. The sound of the ringing phone sounded shrill in my empty apartment and I picked it up with a sense of dread. "Hello?"

"Sydney?" Dad's familiar voice asked.

"Hey." I said, genuinely smiling for what seemed like the first time in days.

"Hey." He replied. "I wanted to talk to you. Can you meet me?"

"Sure." I replied, wondering what my Dad needed to tell me. "I'll be right there."

I put the phone down and walked into my bedroom to quickly change my clothes. Luckily, Dad and I had arranged a meeting place already, just in case we were overheard on the phone. He had always been cautious about that sort of thing and I was glad. The NSC was still investigating the death of Adrian Lazarey, even though there did not seem to be any more leads.

I changed into jeans, a sweater and a pair of soft boots. Grabbing my leather jacket, my phone and my keys, I turned to leave my apartment, before pausing in the doorway. I looked back at the table where I had put the old book and bit my lip. Giving into the feeling in my gut, I grabbed it before I left the apartment. I should probably tell Dad about it, and I didn't want someone to steal it before I had had a chance to look at it.

Fifteen minutes later, I stood looking out over the inky black ocean from the edge of the pier. The scent of salt-laden air and the sound of the waves breaking softly on the shore soothed my mind and gave me a sense of peace that I hadn't felt since I had woken up in Hong Kong. It had always been one of my favourite places and I liked to come here when I needed to think.

I turned when I heard a car pull up behind me, my hand straying to the gun in the small of my back, but it was only Dad. He lent over and opened the door for me, and I got in. We drove in silence for a while, Dad checking to see if anyone was following us and me just staring out the window. I turned back to him when he stopped the car opposite an old park.

He looked grave, which I didn't take to be a good sign. "I've been analysing the video of Lazarey's murder." He said, getting straight to the point.

Oh, this definitely wasn't a good sign. I was already tortured enough by the shocking black and white footage of me committing cold-blooded murder of a seemingly innocent man. I didn't need to hear another analysis about the matter. But then, considering I didn't remember doing it, or the reasons behind it, I didn't really have a choice.

"And?" I asked, already knowing that he had found something.

"Lazarey says something just before he dies." Dad said, delivering the facts in a bland voice, even as he eyes gave me a concerned look. "From what I can tell, it seems to be a name. Either Julie or Julia. I can't be any more certain than that."

I nodded, trying to absorb the news. "So, you think that it's a clue to finding out what happened during my missing two years?"

Dad nodded. "I'm going to assume it was one of the alias' you were given by whoever took you. I haven't been able to dig up anything else yet, but don't give up hope. It may take a while to find out anything since we don't know the whole name."

I nodded. "Thanks, Dad." I said.

Dad smiled at me. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Truthfully?" I answered. "Angry, sad and frustrated. But I'm slowly getting used to it, I guess."

"It'll take time." Dad told me. "But I have no doubt that you'll get through this."

I smiled back at him. "I'm glad that someone still believes in me." I said softly.

Dad gave me an inscrutable look. "You're a lot stronger that even you think, Sydney."

Not sure what to say to that, I took a deep breath, before I remembered the book Bennetti had given me. "Dad, something strange happened tonight." I began. "A man broke into my apartment and gave me this."

I showed him the book. "I haven't had a chance to open it yet." I added.

Dad gave me a sharp look. "Did he say anything?" he asked.

I nodded. "He said his name was Gianni Bennetti and that Rambaldi's prophecy was only the beginning." I said. "He also seemed to think I was in some sort of danger."

"I don't know the name," Dad said. "But I'll make it a priority to find out everything about him. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I answered. "He didn't touch me."

Dad reached for the book and opened it. As he did, I saw a piece of some sort of paper fall out of it. Bending over slightly, I picked it up and turned it over. The paper was quite heavy, more so than any paper I had ever touched. When I saw the painting on the other side of the paper, I stopped and stared in shock. The painting was of a beautiful woman, dressed in finery and staring at the painter with an almost sad look in her brown eyes.

The painting was of me.

"Sydney?" Dad said, still staring at the book and not having noticed my shock. "We may have a problem."

I swallowed a few times before I found my voice again. "You could say that." I said, my voice sounding hoarse.

Dad looked up then, and gave me a concerned look. "What is it, Sydney?" he asked.

I turned the painting around, so that he could see. His face paled and he looked as shocked as I had ever seen him. Without a word, Dad turned the book around, so I could see the words written on the old page. My old Italian was a little rusty, but I could still read the elegant, hand-written words. They made my blood run cold.

"No…" I breathed.

This could not be happening. Swallowing again, rather nervously this time, I stared at the words I was sure had been imprinted on my brain.

_The Journal of Isabella Rambaldi._

The same journal that a painting of me had fallen out of. Oh, boy. Suddenly, I realised that not only was Bennetti right and Rambaldi's prophecy was only the beginning, but I was in way over my head.

"This is not good." I muttered, looking up at my Dad. "Not good at all."

To Be Continued…


	2. Just Like Old Times

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Two:

Los Angeles

The next morning, I got up feeling tired and grumpy. Thanks to the events of the night before, I hadn't slept very well, images of Isabella Rambaldi floating around my head and Bennetti's words ringing in my ears. And now I had to get up and face all the strange looks, anger and angst-filled looks from Vaughn. Yipee.

It was enough to make me want to go back to bed – or take a permanent vacation.

Dad and I had decided to focus on finding out who Bennetti was before we got too worried about the diary (too late, as I was already worried), but I was keeping it with me whenever I could, just in case. I didn't have the courage to read any of it yet.

I sighed and walked to the bathroom to grab a shower. At least there would be two bright spots in my day. Weiss and Marshall. Both men had proven to be true friends of mine and had each tried in their own way to cheer me up and help me adjust. Marshall, in his usually cute but nerdy way, had made me a CD to try and jolt my hippocampus (long-term memories) and Weiss had given me a copy of Alice in Wonderland. Both gestures had touched me deeply and I was glad to have them as friends.

After a hot shower, I wandered into the kitchen for a strong cup of coffee. I was dressed in my usual black, conservative suit and today I wore my hair loose. I had glanced at me reflection in the mirror and had been surprised at how boring I had felt. I looked like a hundred other agents at the JTF – which I guess was the idea. Something about it bothered me.

I was on my second cup of coffee when there was a knock at the door. Smiling, I opened the door to a brightly grinning Weiss. "Good Morning." He greeted cheerfully.

"Morning, Eric." I smiled back. "Want a cup of coffee?"

"No thanks." Weiss replied. "I've already had three."

I chuckled softly. "Alright, then." I sat, finishing my coffee and grabbing my purse. "Shall we go?"

Weiss and I drove to work in his car (we had started travelling together in the mornings) and tried to keep up the bright chatter. Vaughn's marriage to Lauren and my subsequent return had caused some tension between the three of us and none of us were sure what we wanted to do about it – so we just ignored it for the most part.

The drive past quickly and, almost before I knew it, I was standing in front of my desk and switching on my computer. Marshall whizzed by at that moment, running late as usual, his arms filled with files, wires and what looked like a broken PDA. "Hey, Syd." He said, stopping at my desk and giving me a smile.

"Hey, Marshall." I smiled back.

"I…uh, I'll talk to you later." He added, catching sight of Dixon walking towards us.

"Sure." I replied as Marshall resumed his mad dash to his office.

"Morning, Syd." Dixon greeted, his eyes still following the tech's wild rush.

"Morning, Dixon." I returned the greeting.

My old partner seemed rather tired this morning and, judging by the coffee in his hand, had already been here for hours. He turned to me and smiled, although it never quite took away the sadness in his eyes. "There's a mission briefing as soon as everyone gets here." He said.

"That bad?" I replied.

Dixon gave a small half-smile at my feeble attempt at a joke. "It could be." He answered.

And didn't that just get the day off to a rosy start?

* * *

Half an hour later, Marshall, Weiss, Dixon, Vaughn, Lauren, Dad and I assembled in the meeting room to await the bad news. It was always bad news.

"Three hours ago, we became aware of the Covenant's interest in this man," Dixon said as the image of a shrewd looking man with dark hair flashed up on the monitor in front of me. "Richard Deveraux."

"Deveraux has devoted his life to locating lost artefacts that people will pay a lot of money for," Dixon continued. "And he claims to have recently found the location of a lost Rambaldi manuscript."

I sucked in a breath at the mention of Rambaldi. I had thought I had left that madness behind years ago. Obviously not. Yippee.

"And the Covenant wants it." Vaughn stated.

Dixon nodded. "Yes. Deveraux is planning to auction off the location to the highest bidder in three days."

"And you want me to pose as a wealthy bidder?" I asked, my mind already sorting through the options.

"No. It's not quite that easy." Dixon said, getting my attention. "We've learnt that the Covenant plans to steal the information before it can be auctioned off. The theft is supposed to happen in a little over fourteen hours from now."

"So I get we have to get it first." Weiss said dryly. "Do we have any idea where it is?"

Dixon shook his head. "All we know it that Deveraux keeps the information on his computer. Unfortunately, his computer is with him at all times."

"So where is Deveraux?" I asked.

"That's where it becomes difficult." Dixon said. "Deveraux owns a large yacht that sails all over the world. He's going to be on his yacht until the auction. However, we were able to find out where his yacht will be in ten hours. Sydney, it's your job to get aboard that yacht and get the coordinates to the manuscript before the Covenant can."

"Deveraux's yacht will be stopping to take on fuel at a remote port in Argentina. This will be your best opportunity to get on board undetected." Dad added, as a picture of the port flashed up on screen.

I nodded, as Dixon indicated for Marshall to take over the briefing. "Okay, so I guess you're wondering how you're going to get on the ship, right?" Marshall said, with his characteristic nervous rambling. "Well, parachutes would be the obvious choice, but, well, the drop's too short and Deveraux might notice, which, is like, not what were going for, right?"

I nodded and smiled, which was my standard Marshall-is-rambling response. Don't get my wrong, he was really sweet and a great friend, but he really didn't do public speaking very well.

"So, anyway," Marshall hurried on, as if seeing the impatient expressions of the other agents. "This is where my genius comes in, if I can say that. I mean it sounds a bit conceited, even if it was really cool…"

Marshall made an obvious attempt to get back on topic. "Well, I designed a glider that should get you from the cliff to the boat, built into a stylish jacket, because I know how you like to look nice…"

I smiled wider at Marshall's compliment. "Okay, so once you get on board and do your thing, you'll need a way to stop the Covenant getting the coordinates of the manuscript. Well, I've designed a worm that will get into the precise data we want and stop the Covenant accessing it."

Dixon cut of Marshall quickly, before he could say anything else. I was a little sad actually, because listening to Marshall talk had been like the last two years never happened. It was nice to know that not even me going missing could change Marshall too much, strange as that seemed.

"You leave in an hour, Syd." He said.

* * *

Argentina

The warm night air gentle riffled my ponytail and brushed against my cheek, as I quickly and efficiently checked over my equipment one last time. The adrenaline was already thrumming through my blood, the heady sense of excitement I got at the start of a mission humming through my body. Once again, I realised one simple fact: I lived for this – the challenge, the sense of achievement and the excitement of potential danger.

"Mountaineer, are you in position?" Dixon's voice echoed through my earpiece, bouncing from the CIA offices back in LA.

"I'm good to go." I replied quietly.

"Copy that, Mountaineer." Dixon said. "Deveraux's yacht's ETA is two minutes."

Back at the offices, I knew Dixon, Dad and Marshall would be monitoring Deveraux's yacht via a satellite feed. "Copy that." I confirmed, echoing Dixon's earlier words as I secured my repelling harness. "Going radio silent."

"Good luck." Dixon said softly, before the line went dead.

Stepping backwards, I let out a slow breath and leapt backwards off the cliff. This was not the first time I'd repelled down a cliff (it happened surprisingly often, actually), so the sight of the ground so far below gave my nothing more than a momentary feeling of apprehension. Heights had never bothered me all that much, which was good, because you had no idea how many missions required me to hang upside down or jump off tall objects.

A soon as I got to the right height below the cliff, I tied off and waited for the yacht. I was positioned on the cliff face not all that far from the little bay in which the yacht was supposed to stop for fuel, and just far enough along that they would have to pass more or less below me to get to the open ocean. I was dressed for the occasion in black (naturally – it seemed to be the only colour ever considered for this sort of thing), including boots, stylish jacket designed by Marshall and fingerless gloves to protect my palms from rope burn.

About half a minute after I tied off, the yacht came into sight. I watched its progress, noting it was exactly as I had expected. None of the bad guys we came across happened to be _poor_ bad guys – which kind of sucked, because surely they couldn't be paid _that_ much more than me?

The massive yacht was at least 80 feet long, with enough space to house at least ten or more people. According to the reports I had seen, however, there were only supposed to be seven men onboard – Deveraux, two bodyguards and four crewmen. Unless something had changed, I wasn't expecting too much resistance. Even though everyone back in LA had emphasised getting in and out without being seen. I didn't think it mattered if we got what we came for.

Judging the path of the yacht carefully, I waited for another moment, before quickly unsnapping my harness and pushing away from the cliff. I dropped in freefall for a second, adrenaline in overdrive, before the glider popped out of Marshall's cleverly designed jacket and I glided towards my target. Almost immediately my rushing fall stopped and turned into a more gently drift downwards. With barely a sound, I landed on the top deck of the yacht about a minute later.

Grinning at the ease of getting onboard thanks to Marshall, I slipped out of the jacket and stuffed it into the back I carried at my side. Staying crouched, I moved to the end of the deck (it seemed to be originally designed as some sort of entertaining area) and peered over the side. Then I cursed loudly in my head. There was at least one guard patrolling the deck below. I quietly moved to the other side and noticed a guard similarly patrolling on the other side of the yacht too.

Judging by the presence of two extra guards, Deveraux had picked up some extra men when he stopped for fuel. Oh, well. Now it was a challenge. I knew the crew would be relatively easy to avoid. They would either be manning the helm or in their quarters, and unless I made a lot of noise, they would stay there. It was just those guards I had to slip past.

Briefly, I wondered if Deveraux had also taken on staff to clean or cook for him, but decided he would probably prefer more guards around him than servers. He seemed to be a cautious type of man. I brought the floor plan of the yacht into my mind, having spent most of the plane flight to Argentina going over it. There were at least three bedrooms on the original design of the yacht, and we knew for a fact that Deveraux had modified it since purchase. So it stood to reason that one of those bedrooms was now his office. Problem was, they were on the bottom of the ship and I was on the top.

Knowing I couldn't stay in one place for very long in case someone decided to take a walk, I slipped back towards the stairs that led down to the deck. Due to the late hour, Deveraux should be in bed and most of the bodyguards would be sleepy. I waited until both guards had turned away from my direction and slipped down the stairs, heading for the steps to the helm, galley and stateroom.

I paused in the shadows just below the stairs and crouched in absolute stillness as one of the guards drifted back down to this end of the yacht. I held my breath until both guards moved back towards the bow again, before slipping quietly through the door into the first level below deck. The door opened into the large and lushly decorated stateroom, with the galley visible in the dimness just beyond and the helm just beyond that. Thankfully, none of the bodyguards were in the stateroom, and I revised my opinion that Deveraux had taken on more men. Surely they couldn't be sleeping, could they?

Suddenly my attention was diverted by a soft clinking sound, and I immediately slipped into the deep shadows behind the door and just to the side of some of the large curtained windows. Moving the curtains quietly, I peered out towards the deck when I realised the noise had come from out there.

As I watched, I saw a grapple hook onto the railing of the deck and a figure in black pulled themselves up onto the deck. The man was dressed in a modified wetsuit, which also covered his head, and was obviously wet having swum up to the boat. He wore boat shoes, and as I watched, pulled out a nasty looking silenced automatic. As he prowled forwards to deal with the two guards, I frowned. Damn it, the Covenant was already here! That meant I had to move fast.

I crept quickly to across the stateroom, past the galley and to the stairs that led down to the lower level, just before the door to the helm. I noticed the light and muffled voices just behind the helm door and knew that at least two of the crew were in there, hopefully meaning the other was asleep.

The level below was almost completely dark, with the only light drifting down from the floor above. No light came out from underneath any of the doors and I slipped down the narrow corridor as fast as I dared. Hopefully the guards on the deck would keep the Covenant agent busy long enough for me to grab the location of the manuscript and corrupt the data with Marshall's worm.

Guessing that the middle door would lead to Deveraux's office and not the bodyguards' bedroom, I opened the door and slipped inside. I paused in the complete darkness a moment to listen, but heard no breathing or questioning shouts. That was good. Holding my breath, I turned on the small torch I had brought with me and looked around the room.

I grinned in triumph when I recognised the office. And there on the desk was Deveraux's laptop, containing the manuscript coordinates! I walked over and opened the laptop, before switching on the small lamp beside the computer on the desk. The torch didn't really give me enough light and the lamp seemed small enough that it shouldn't be too obvious outside the office.

A minute later, a window appeared on the screen, demanding a password. Since this sort of thing was not all that uncommon, I had come equipped with a small decoder from Marshall, and I plugged that in quickly, before typing in a short series of commands. The small device only took a few seconds to crack the password and then I was in. Disconnecting the decoder with one hand, I scrolled through the files on the computer, quickly locating the one I was after. Once I had that, it only took me a minute or two to download the information and upload Marshall's worm.

I typed in the series of commands to activate the worm, my fingers flying rapidly over the keys, as I probably only had a few seconds before the Covenant agent caught up with me… Suddenly I heard a sound behind me and I cursed loudly in my head, using as many languages as I could. I was too slow. I tensed, just as I heard the ominous sound of someone clicking the safety off an automatic right behind me.

"This is just like old times." A familiar voice said, almost conversationally from just behind me, in a British accent.

It just figures that Sark would be the one they would send. He's the only man I've ever met who can successfully sneak up on me like that and once again, I found myself on the wrong end of a gun barrel.

"Sark." I growled, angry at him for sneaking up on me and myself for letting him.

"Raise your hands slowly and step away from the computer, Agent Bristow."

I knew if I was going to do something, I would have to do it fast, so I acted in an instant. I slammed the "enter" key to initiate Marshall's worm, a second before I pivoted to the right and away from Sark's gun. I was now parallel to the gun barrel and my sudden movement had caught Sark by surprise. I didn't have the advantage for long, however, as Sark hadn't lasted this long without having good reflexes (unfortunately for me).

I lashed out backwards with a kick directed at his wrist, wanting to force him to drop the gun. He did with a loud curse, as he turned his attention fully to me and away from the computer screen, where the worm was doing its job. I took the opportunity to strike out again, hitting Sark a few times in the face and chest. Admittedly, I did put a bit more force behind the blows than I absolutely needed to, but this was Sark – he deserved it.

Sark staggered back a few steps and snarled. Obviously angry, yet a trace of admiration in his gaze, he retaliated. This time it was me who gave ground, although very grudgingly. "I must say I'm pleased you survived Moscow, Sydney." Sark smirked as we fought furiously. "It's just not the same without you."

It figures that the one man who seems to want me around it my sworn enemy… if you don't count my dad, but no one really ever knows what he's thinking.

"You mean you've got no one to beat you up?" I shot back as I aimed a back fist at his mouth.

He blocked, but I was ready for him… a bit easier than I remember, but not bad for someone who, up until very recently, has been trapped in a cell for two years. I slammed his face into the desk beside the computer, bloodying his nose, and while he was still groggy, slapped some handcuffs on him.

With a slight grin, I left him slumped on the ground and moved back to the computer, just as Marshall's worm finished his task. Ejecting the disk containing the location, I pocketed the information and grabbed the disk containing Marshall's worm, putting it in a separate pocket.

Sark tugged at his bindings sharply, as soon as his head stopped ringing. "This won't stop me for long, Sydney." He taunted.

Mirroring the same smirk he'd been giving me for years, I looked at him. "I know." Turning, I headed for the door and my extraction point.

Thankfully, despite Sark's and my somewhat noisy fight, the corridor beyond seemed as deserted as it had been when I entered. I turned and headed for the stairs as quickly as I dared. Sark knew I had the information he wanted and I had to get off the yacht before he got to me.

Unfortunately, just as I reached the top of the stairs, there was a shout from behind me (not Sark's, so it could have been worse!) and light flooded the previously dark stairs and stateroom. I burst into a sprint as soon as I heard the man, my hand going for my gun at the same time.

As footsteps pounded behind me, I burst out onto the deck and found two crumpled bodies of the guards. "Retriever, this is Mountaineer!" I broke radio silence as soon as I was in the open air. "I've got the disk and request immediate extraction!"

"Copy that, Mountaineer." Dixon's voice replied, much to my relief. "We're in position."

Risking a quick glance over my shoulder, I noticed three men were pounding angrily behind me, but thankfully, Sark was no where to be seen. I sprinted down the deck, heading to the stern of the yacht and didn't even pause when I ran out of deck. In a swift, gracefully movement (probably so easy since I'd done it more times than I could remember), I leapt up on top of the railing and dived off.

My breath exploded from my lungs when I hit the freezing water, despite the fact I had been bracing myself. I surfaced quickly, and grabbed and mouthful of air while treading water, before gazing sharply around. I heard shouts and gunfire behind me from Deveraux's yacht, but I was far enough away by now that it didn't concern me too much.

Then I grinned as my ride emerged from one of the small inlets along the coast and sped over to me. I swam towards the small speed boat, even though it was heading straight for me. I wanted to get out of this freezing water as soon as I could, and besides, I wasn't going to hang around for Sark to find me – that wouldn't be too good for my health, as Sark was probably very pissed of by now. Oh, that thought just gave me warm tingles all over!

I dragged my wet, cold body onto the boat and felt the speed boat make a sharp turn and head back to the shore before the yacht could follow. I got to me feet, suppressing a shiver at the now icy feeling of the breeze as Vaughn turned around to look at me, from where he was standing at the wheel.

"You okay?" he asked me, with his now-characteristic sad and worried eyes.

Is it bad that in that moment I wanted to hit him? I suppressed the irrational surge of anger and forced a smile. "Just a little wet." I said, slipping a blanket around my shoulders.

"We'll be back at the safe house soon." He told me with one of those smiles that never reached his guilt-ridden eyes.

I nodded, keeping the smile in place. Oh, boy. This was going to be a long trip home.

To be continued…


	3. Going after the Vial

Author's Note: Hey guys, thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad to see you're enjoying it!

Cheeky.

* * *

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Three:

Los Angeles

I entered my small apartment with an appreciation that only the truly weary can display. It didn't matter that it was empty of all those things I had collected over a life time, or that I would never again hear the cheerful humming of Francie as she cooked some new creation in the kitchen. All that mattered was that I could finally sleep.

The entire flight home had been tense and emotionally draining. Vaughn and I had barely spoken, but we hadn't needed to. The silence between us was filled with all the things we couldn't say to each other and all the things we were too scared to. By the time we had finally reached LA again, I was sick of Vaughn's stupid forlorn look that he kept looking at me with. Once I had found those emotional eyes endearing. Now they just got on my nerves. For some reason, whatever had been between Vaughn and me didn't seem as good as I remembered it.

But that was a problem for another day. I didn't have the energy for it right now.

I dumped my stuff in my bedroom, and made my way to the fridge. I shoved a frozen dinner into the microwave (the best culinary effort I was capable of right now) and waited for it to beep. As I did, my eyes fell on the diary of Isabella Rambaldi. I still carried it everywhere with me (don't ask me why, it just felt right), but I hadn't read anything in it yet. Maybe now was the moment. After all, maybe finding a bit more about her would help.

I grabbed my dinner out the microwave and carried it into the living room, along with the diary. I absently flicked it open as I began to eat, wondering what I would find. Intrigued at the elegantly flowing writing on the pages inside, I began to read the first entry.

_March 12th 1427,_

_I will have to be careful of my thoughts from now on. My dreaded father has once again secured the cage around me even tighter. Today, the exiled half-English, half-French lordling who is to be my bodyguard arrived. He is cold, arrogant and condescending. I hate him already._

_I dreamt again of just running away. Being penniless and alone seems a small price to pay to escape from the pain inflicted by my father. Oh, to be free of it! That would be the sweetest joy in all the world._

_But it must, as always, remain a secret dream. Such is my curse, for I am the daughter of Milo Rambaldi and I fear I shall never be free of him._

_Isabella o _

I slammed the diary shut and leapt away, as if it had suddenly turned into a snake and tried to bite me, my dinner was completely forgotten. Isabella, the woman who shared my face, was not the monster I had expected (or maybe hoped) her to be. I could not simply dismiss our resemblance as a coincidence. I could see too much of myself in her – in her yearning for freedom.

But it wasn't that thought that had made me snap the diary shut. It had been the picture sketched under her gracefully written words. The name next to the picture was Edward de L'Archier, Isabella's new bodyguard.

The face was Sark's.

I shuddered. What were the odds that we both shared faces with two people who had been close to Rambaldi? I knew Sark had never cared either way about Rambaldi, except maybe to use as leverage, but my mother did and that was enough. Sark had been Irina Derevko's protégé.

As if my life didn't have enough problems!

Beginning to feel angry that I had been sucked back into the whole Rambaldi mess, I grabbed the diary and headed to my bedroom. Maybe I could catch a few hours sleep before I had to report back to the JTF – and talk to my Dad.

* * *

_The feeling of biting cold surrounded me. I had long since stopped shivering and the numbness had stolen over me hours ago. I hadn't eaten for days and time had lost its meaning. I was curled up in a tight ball and I had the surreal feeling that I had to remember something – but I couldn't put that knowledge into words._

_Grimy jeans and a torn singlet clung to my now gaunt frame. Absently, I knew there had been a time when it hadn't been like this, when I knew what it was to be warm and comfortable, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Like it had happened to someone else._

_There was only one thing I could remember with any clarity. Two words my captors kept repeating to me over and over again._

_Julia Thorne._

_Gradually, I became aware that things were changing around me. There was a sensation of heavy fabric lying across my legs and something tight was binding my chest. I realised I was now wearing a gown and corset. Strange as it was, the sensations seemed familiar to me._

_I was still lying on cold damp rock and there was still the annoying drip of brackish water down the wall. Even so, I knew I was now in a different place. A different time. It was more than the clothes I now wore. It was a hundred little feelings and the instinctual feeling in my gut. Even the smell was subtly different, now with the scent of mouldy straw mixed in with the stench._

_Suddenly, a door above me slammed open with a clang. "Isabella?" a gravely, yet very familiar voice called out. "Are you willing to behave yourself now?"_

_My back was to the man in the doorway and I made no move to turn towards him. Words spilled out of my mouth of their own violation, sounding almost lilting to my ears. "No, Father. I will not take part in your viscous games."_

"_I am designing a new world order!" the man bellowed, a hint of fanaticism colouring his voice. "You will play your part! I have prophesized it."_

"_I will never willingly take part in your manipulations." Again, the words came out on their own._

"_Actually, my dear." The man said with a gleeful chuckle. "You'll be the one that makes it come true."_

* * *

I bolted upright in shock and found myself back in my bedroom. My chest was heaving and I felt like I had just been running a marathon. This could not be happening to me! Groaning, I slumped back down onto my sweaty blankets and looked at the clock. 5:30 am. The green numbers flashed almost mockingly at me.

My mind struggled to accept that my dream had been anything but a twisted nightmare after reading the diary – but my gut was urging me that both parts were true. I didn't want to acknowledge that, but these were the same instincts that told me when I was about to get shot. They hadn't been wrong yet.

Sighing, I kicked of the blankets and stared at the dark place where my ceiling was. Okay, aside from the whole set of feelings that were freaked out by my vivid dream, what was it trying to tell me? I tensed as a thought struck me. Julia Thorne. What if that dream hadn't been a dream at all but a memory? What if Julia Thorne was a clue to my missing two years?

My mind shied away from the implication that the dream about Isabella could be real too. I wasn't ready to accept that yet. At least I had a clue to work on now. That was something. With another sigh, I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Maybe I'd feel better after a long hot shower and a large cup of coffee… but I doubted it.

* * *

I blinked sleepily as I tried to focus on Dixon's voice, a hot cup of coffee on the desk in front of me. After my very long and sleepless night, I was feeling very tired and seriously grumpy. Not to mention what my dreams had been about. And if one more person turned around and gave me a stupid sympathetic look, I was going to seriously loose it.

I had a feeling something was about to happen – something to do with Rambaldi and that diary, but for once in my life, I couldn't find the energy to care. Blinking again, I turned my focus back to the briefing.

"We've analysed the data Sydney brought back from Deveraux's computer," Dixon was saying. "The manuscript is located in a monastery in this remote section of the Himalayas."

Dixon indicated the stretch of mountains on the large screen behind him. "However, there is a problem," he continued. "The manuscript can only be read using a special chemical, much like Page 47."

I looked up sharply at that, before giving my Dad a worried look. And here I was thinking that being given Isabella Rambaldi's diary might have been a wild coincidence. Wonderful.

"The vial is currently held by MR Industries, at their high security offices in Prague." Dixon told us, ignoring everyone's speculative looks in my direction – if only I could do that so easily.

"The CEO of MR Industries, Gabriel Nicholi, is holding interviews a party to celebrate a recent technological advancement, in order to gain more wealthy clients." Dad said as he took over the briefing.

A black and white photograph of a tall man with salt and pepper hair and the hard expression of someone who always gets their way, flashed up on the screen. I put two and two together pretty quickly – I wasn't stupid. "You want me to pose as a guest." I said, more than asked.

Dad nodded. "You should be able to gain access to the secure lab where the vial is being held, once you're inside the building." He said. "According to the blueprints Marshall gained access to, the lab is located on the same floor as where the party is being held."

I nodded, my mind already getting ready for the mission by absorbing all the details, even as I wondered just how Rambaldi was going to destroy my life this time. It was then that Marshall stood up, the exuberant tech stopping my wayward thoughts. If anyone could bring a smile to my lips, it was him.

"Right, well, I guess you're wondering: how is Sydney going to get into the lab?" he began in his typical fashion, before cutting a slightly worried glance to me. "Not that you wouldn't be able to get into the lab, I mean…you're amazing…but…"

I smiled encouragingly at him, grateful that Marshall had never once doubted my abilities, even after my missing two years. So many others had. "Okay, well, the lab should be encrypted with a complex code and biometric sensors…so this is where this baby comes in." Marshall held up what looked like a makeup compact. "You've seen this before, right?"

At his question, I nodded. I had used the descrambler built into the compact many times in the past. I raised an eyebrow, though, when Marshall shook his head. "Wrong! Well, you're sort of right…anyway, thanks to my brilliance, I managed to build in some extra features on this baby. Now, as long as you can get him to touch it, the device will record Nicholi's precise fingerprints so you can use them to open the lab."

I had to smile at Marshall. He was right, he _was_ brilliant. Without him and his devices, I think I would have run into trouble long before now. Dixon nodded at Marshall, my old partner also seemingly impressed by Marshall's ingenuity. "Weiss and Vaughn, you'll be providing comm. support. Wheels up in three hours."

* * *

I caught up with my father just after the briefing. "Dad, we need to talk." I told him quietly.

"Not here." He said. "Is it important?"

I looked at my father and noticed the genuine concern in his eyes. We may not always have gotten along, but there was no denying that my Dad was always concerned about me. Our problems always seemed to stem from how he dealt with that – Dad was willing to break all the rules if it meant keeping me safe.

Strangely, however, that willingness was becoming more and more of a comfort these days. Or maybe that wasn't all that strange considering. "Yes." I nodded.

"Do you have time for lunch?" My Dad asked, his concern deepening.

I nodded again. "I can study the blueprints on the plane."

Together, the two of us left the JTF, seemingly to enjoy a quick lunch – but in reality, we were heading back to my place so I could tell him about my interesting night. Hopefully, Dad would be able to help…otherwise I could sense a permanent vacation coming. Probably complete with padded walls.

Once we were settled around my kitchen table, coffee in hand, I got straight to the point. I simply told him about my dreams and reading Isabella's diary, and in his typical fashion, Dad didn't even blink.

"It's reasonable to assume that Julia Thorne is the identity you were using during your missing two years." He said, confirming my worst fears. "And since you can't be brainwashed, we have to conclude you were doing it willingly."

Willingly being someone else for two years? I felt a shiver of fear and revulsion run down my spine. Dad must have sensed something, because he looked sharply at me. "That doesn't mean there weren't other factors involved, Sydney." He told me. "You probably accepted the identity under duress, at the very least."

"But willingly working for the Covenant, Dad?" I shuddered again, not wanting to think about it.

"We don't know for sure if it was the Covenant that took you." Dad cautioned.

I gave my father a reproachful look. "The NSC seem to think so."

"They believe that Lazarey's killer was a Covenant operative, yes." I winced at that, never really wanting to be reminded of the fact I had killed a man in cold blood at the bidding of some very ruthless people. "That doesn't mean the Covenant _is _responsible for your disappearance."

"Then who is?" I snapped.

"That's something we're going to have to find out." Dad replied, shooting me a expression that almost screamed "duh!" – not that my Dad would ever say it out loud.

Changing the topic in his characteristically abrupt way, Dad pulled out a file from his coat pocket, which was hanging over the back of his chair. "I managed to find some information on Gianni Benetti."

Curious, I ignored my irritation for a second and looked at the file as Dad opened it. The photo sitting on top of the neatly typed pages was definitely the man who had broken into my apartment. At Dad's questioning look, I nodded. "That's him." I said.

"Benetti seems to be an art dealer by trade." Dad spoke as I read the file. "He claims to be a direct descendant of Rambaldi, but doesn't appear to belong to any particular group. He's had some contact with Rambaldi fanatics, like Anna Espinosa, but doesn't seem to be one."

"So what does he want with me?" I asked.

"I'm not sure." Dad answered. "But I don't think he means any harm."

I looked up sharply when he said that. Dad was one of the most paranoid men I knew – he was _always_ warning me not to drop my guard. He raised an eyebrow at my expression. "That doesn't mean you should hesitate to shoot him." He told me.

Nodding softly, I shut the file. "So we just wait?"

Dad frowned. "Benetti will no doubt reveal his reasons in time." He said. "But until then, I suggest we focus on Julia Thorne."

"Okay." I agreed quietly.

Dad reached over and placed a comforting hand on my arm. "We _will_ find the truth, Sydney."

I looked up and gave him a reassuring smile. "I know." I told him, but in my mind I wasn't so sure.

But damned if I was going to let anyone know that.

* * *

Prague

I straightened my skirt unobtrusively as I entered the large, gleaming office building in central Prague. The chic blonde wig I wore, combined with the short skirt of my designer dress, would hopefully get me close enough to Nicholi so I could grab his fingerprints. Smiling brightly and somewhat vacantly (an expression I had perfected over the years), I continued to walk through the lobby and towards the young men on coat duty.

"May I take your coat?" one of the young men asked politely, in Czech.

Playing to my role, I replied in French accented Czech. "Oh, thank you."

The young man smiled, and like everything else about this building, he was shiny, elegant and exuded a fake politeness. I hated that. "Please, take the elevator to the top floor." He said. "Mr. Nicholi will join you very soon."

I thanked him again and sauntered my way over to the elevators, just as one of them opened. The elevator was soon filled with men in expensive tuxedos and women in designer gowns. Gems and jewels glittered in the dim light as the small space filled with the competing scents of expensive aftershave and perfume. It was always the same.

A few of the men gave me appreciative glances, just as the women sent me hostile ones. I ignored them both, keeping the vacant look plastered on my face. I was here to do a job and I just wanted it done.

The elevator doors dinged softly as they opened, revealing the entire top floor and lab had been lavishly decorated for the party. I walked out with the other guests, before stopping slightly to one side, in order to gain my bearings. I grabbed a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, but did not drink.

"Mountaineer, what's your position?" Vaughn's voice crackled through the comm.

"I'm inside the party." I replied softly.

"Alright, the lab should be down the hall on the other side of the room." Weiss told me, after a slight pause.

"Any sign of Nicholi?" Vaughn asked as I gazed out over the sea of people.

When I noticed how many people stood (or attempted to dance) between me and the dark door on the other side of the room, I stifled a curse. Great. "No sign of Nicholi yet." I replied.

There was a small silence after my reply and I could feel Vaughn was searching for words. He wanted to say something, but I was in no mood to hear it. I cut him off quickly. "Going radio silent until I have the vial."

"Mountaineer, do you think..." Vaughn replied.

I cut him off abruptly, by switching off my comm. That was one way to deal with emotional problems. Feeling better now that I was free from Vaughn's presence, even if it had been on the other end of a radio, I walked down the few steps to the crowded room and began to make my way towards the door on the other side, pushing past people doing something that only vaguely resembled dancing.

The people mingling around the edges were almost no better and after about five minutes of struggle, I just stopped. In that moment, I really wished I hadn't left the champagne behind, because I could really have used a drink.

"Champagne?" a silky voice asked, seemingly reading my mind, as a flute of champagne was held out to me.

"Sark." I growled, but took the offered glass.

I turned to find him smirking at me in that cocky way of his. As usual, he was dressed in an expensive black suit and seemed at home amongst the glittering people at the party. "Hello, Sydney." He greeted.

Taking a small sip of champagne (if I was dealing with Sark _and_ the mission, I had a feeling I was going to need it), I returned Sark's stare. The bubbles tickled my throat, reminding me that I hadn't tasted expensive champagne in a very long time. It might seem a little strange considering how many parties I'd been to like this in my life, but the CIA had a rather strict policy about drinking on the job.

"It seems once again, we're after the same thing." Sark said, sounding amused.

"I didn't think you cared about Rambaldi." I replied, as we fell back into our familiar pattern of verbal sparring.

Sark arched an eyebrow. "I was talking about the Covenant." He said.

Now it was my turn to arch an eyebrow. It seemed Sark wasn't happy with who he was taking orders from. "Tiring of your new masters already?" I asked.

Annoyance flickered over his features for a second, but I sensed it was not directed at me (there have been many times when it _had_, so I know the difference). "I prefer to choose who to work for." He answered. "And I _do_ have standards."

The disgust I heard in his last statement surprised a small smile out of me. For a moment, I forgot he was the enemy as I realised he felt just as frustrated and used as I did. It was a moment of understanding between me and a man I was supposed to hate – yet somehow I didn't. Some instinct told me there was a lot more to Sark than most people saw.

Sark looked contemplative for a moment and I could have sworn I saw a flicker of regret cross his features. "I've often wondered what it would have been like, had you accepted my offer, Sydney." He said. Then a ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Its hard to believe you referred to me as cute."

This mood was strange as far as our confrontations went, but I didn't want to break it. It was nice – strange, huh? "Back then, I didn't realise what a sparkling personality you had." I replied.

Sark let out a chuckle as I took another sip of champagne. I considered him over the edge of the glass. He looked wearier that I remembered, like a weight was pressing down on his shoulders. "I'm not going to work for you, Sark." I said.

His smirk faded a little and I had to hold back a smirk of my own. "But I might consider it if you asked me to work _with_ you."

A smile broke free as I watched Sark blink in surprise. I don't think I'd ever seen that expression on his face before. Taking my opportunity, I began to slip away to continue my mission. Impulsively, I turned back and toasted Sark with my champagne flute. "Thanks for the champagne."

The smirk returned to Sark's face. "You're welcome." He replied.

I watched him melt back into the crowd and felt a smile tug at my lips. Having Sark here definitely added more of a challenge to the mission, which I usually loved. But tonight was different. Somehow, Sark and I had come to a new understanding and I didn't relish kicking his ass as much as I once had. Of course, that didn't mean I was going to let him win – the people he worked for _were_ evil after all.

I took a final sip of the champagne, before placing my flute on a passing waiter's tray. A subtle movement at the back of the room caught my eye, and I recognised Nicholi entering the room, before he moved into view by the rest of the room. The music was turned down and someone tapped on a glass.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Nicholi greeted in English, but I heard his faint Italian accent underneath. "Welcome to my party!"

There were some chuckles as the crowd turned to listen to Nicholi. "Tonight you will see technologies that will astound and amaze you…but first, enjoy some champagne and caviar. The night is still young!"

Another round of laughter echoed through the crowd as the buzz of conversation returned and the music got loud again. I took a moment to watch Nicholi move through the crowd and smiled when I realised how I was going to play this. Timing it well, I walked towards Nicholi and counted down silently in my head. Just as I reached Nicholi, I tripped forwards, making sure I scattered the contents of my small purse at his feet.

Acting the charming gentleman I knew he preferred to play in public (unlike the bastard he undoubtedly was), Nicholi immediately reached down to help me to my feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"_Mon Dieu_!" I said, the vacant look back on my face. "I am so sorry!"

"It's fine." Nicholi smiled charmingly at me, but his eyes remained cold. "Let me help you."

Graciously, he helped me gather up my "belongings" and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling when he picked up the compact Marshall had given me. "Thank you, _monsieur_." I smiled as I took the compact from Nicholi when he held it out to me.

"Be careful, now." He said. "And enjoy the party!"

"I'm sure I will." I agreed with another vacant smile – but probably for different reasons than he thought.

Once again, I disappeared back into the crowd, using the mass of people to hide my movements. Now that I had Nicholi's fingerprints, I could make my way to the secured lab and get what I came for. But it was tough going, as the crowd was worse than before and I had to stop several times to rebuff offers to get me a drink.

When I finally reached the darkened doorway, I realised that it was really the entrance to a dimly lit corridor – and not the lab itself. Glancing around to make sure that no one was paying attention to me, I slipped into the passage and hoped the boys back in the van had dealt with the security cameras. I know I probably should have checked in, but I just didn't want to hear what Vaughn had to say. I'd pay for that later – probably by getting yelled at by every senior officer in the whole CIA.

At the other end of the corridor, I came to the locked door I had been expecting. Next to the familiar keypad that I had broken through about a million times on various missions, was the biometric sensor. But thanks to Marshall, neither would take me long to break through. I quickly attached the makeup compact to the lock and waited for a breathless moment until the lock beeped green.

I slipped into the lab as quickly as I could and drew my gun from where it was hidden under my dress. At first glance, the lab appeared empty, but I did not relax. I knew just how deceiving appearances could be. Cautiously, I scanned the lab again. I didn't see or hear anyone, so I moved quickly to the case where I knew the vial was being stored.

It was empty!

I heard the ominous sound of a safety being removed in the same second I knew Sark was standing right behind me. "Once again, we seem to find ourselves in a familiar position." He remarked.

"And just like always, I'm going to win." I replied, as I calmly turned around and ignored the panic in the pit of my stomach.

Sark looked amused at my statement. "But I already have the formula." He said.

"But you don't have the location of the manuscript." I shot back and was pleased to see annoyance flicker over his face.

"Are you proposing a trade, Sydney?" he asked mockingly.

"Where would the fun be in that?" I asked him. "I think I'll just fight you for it."

The amused smirk was back on Sark's face. "I don't think that would be much fun for me, Sydney, so I'll take this opportunity to take me leave."

Growling in irritation when I realised what he was about to do, I shot him a venomous glare, but as always, Sark was impervious to it. "A little payback for Argentina, I think." He smirked. "Oh, and Sydney? If you ever feel the need to combine our…forces, the option is always there."

How is it that Sark could make that sound so dirty, yet so enticing at the same time? I wasn't supposed to be tempted by the devil.

Suddenly the alarms that Sark had triggered began to sound annoyingly through the air, as Sark disappeared out the door and presumably to whichever escape route was closest. Damn it! I'd have to move quickly, if I didn't want to be caught red-handed!

I snapped on my radio again, just as Vaughn's somewhat frantic voice yelled, "What just happened?"

"Sark triggered the alarm and escaped with the vial." I told him, sounding a lot calmer than he did – which was odd, because I was the one about to be caught by lots of men with guns.

"Sark was there?" Vaughn echoed.

"Yes." I said tensely as I ran to the lab door and locked it.

By now, I wouldn't be able to sneak back out into the party without being spotted. So I'd just have to find another way out. "Are there any other ways out of here?" I asked the boys in the truck.

"Ah…" Vaughn said.

"There should be another door at the back of the lab." Weiss said after a moment of rustling paper and tapping keys. "It leads to a small office. You could climb out the window."

Fabulous. "You do realise we're twenty floors up, don't you?" I replied.

However, even as I said it, I was already moving. It might have been a risky plan, but it was the only one I had. I'd just have to think my way out of this when I got out of the lab. It was not a moment too soon, as I could already hear thumps coming from the other door. Within minutes, this whole place would be flooded with Nicholi's goons carrying automatic weapons. Just how every girl likes to spend her evenings.

I skidded to a halt (not an easy feat in stilettos, I tell you) just inside the office and slammed the door shut. There didn't appear to be a lock, so I hooked a chair under the door handle. It wouldn't keep anyone out for long, but a few seconds might be enough to help me get away. I immediately scanned the room, spotting the window Weiss had mentioned earlier.

Running towards the small window, I opened it as far as I could and looked out. Oh, what I wouldn't have given for a parachute about now! Then I blinked, the beginning of an idea forming in my head. I turned and ran to the door to the office that opened back into what I remembered as a corridor, thanks to the blueprints I had studied.

Flinging the door open as I heard the door to the lab smash open, I ran out into the corridor and spotted what I was looking for. A fire hose. There was a fire extinguisher right next to it, and I jerked it off the wall in hurried movements, after taking a second to tuck my gun back under my dress. Not even pausing, as I knew I would have seconds before the men got through the office, I threw it at one of the corridor windows, which smashed in a shower of glass. Grabbing the end of the fire hose, I muttered a quick prayer, before leaping out the window.

Freefalling for a long moment, the sensation of rushing through the air left my stomach far behind. Suddenly I felt my grip on the hose almost slip, as the hose jerked my fall to a abrupt stop when it reached its end and I began to speed back towards the building. I tucked my feet up to my chest, feet forward and waited for the impact. It was probably a silly thing to do wearing stilettos (not the first stupid thing I've ever done, though) but I figured a twisted ankle would be easier to live with than cut feet.

I smashed into the building, about five floors below the lab, and fell through the window in a shower of glass. I let go of the hose and threw myself forward, missing most of the glass, but still managing to get myself cut. It was inevitable considering my lack of clothing, but luckily I managed to get away with only a few scratches to my arms and legs. As soon as I was past the glass, I rolled to my feet and took off in as fast a sprint as I could manage.

"Mountaineer, what just happened?!" Vaughn exploded.

"I just jumped out the window." I replied, somehow quite amused by the situation. It might have had something to do with the large amounts of adrenaline pumping through my blood.

"Where are you now?" Weiss asked, sounding like he was watching Vaughn's face turned purple.

"Around the fifteenth floor and heading for the fire escape." I answered.

Snarling in annoyance, I stopped for a second to kick of those stupid heels. I understood why I was always wearing them, given the cover they usually gave me, but sometimes I really wished for a good pair of climbing boots or something. I yanked out my gun at the same time, before bursting through the door to the fire stairs.

Sprinting and sliding down the stairs, I bolted as fast as I could, knowing from the pounding above, that my pursuers were after me. "This is Mountaineer." I snapped into my comm. "I need backup at the north fire exit!"

"Copy that, Mountaineer." Vaughn's voice was tense.

Bullets began to whiz past me, echoing as they hit the metal around me and encouraged me to pick up the pace a little. Nothing like being shot at to make you go faster. By now, I was past the fifth floor, but to my horror, more goons burst out of the door to the fourth floor, just below me. I smashed past them in their surprised hesitation, but couldn't afford to continue down the stairs. With the guards on my heels, I sprinted onto the fourth floor and headed for the other end of the building.

"Change of plans." I snapped. "Heading to the south side!"

Bullets continued to fly around me as I ran, but I was almost out of ideas. Damn Sark! He was going to pay for this next time we met!

My mind spinning in an attempt to find a way out, I realised that a river ran beside the south side of the building. It was desperate, I know, but I had run out of options. Taking a deep breath to settle my nerves, I sped up as I neared the end of the corridor, before bringing up my gun. I fired two shot in quick succession, smashing the window. With barely any hesitation, I dove straight through the window and plummeted towards the river below.

The goons skidded to a halt at the window and fired at me, but I was too far below. Seconds after diving through the window I hit the freezing water of the river below. The impact drove the air from my lungs in an explosion of bubbles. The grimy water invaded my mouth, tasting foul and I hoped there was nothing too disgusting in here.

I broke the surface, coughing and spluttering. I spat out the water from my mouth and set out for the bank, just as a van screeched to a halt in front of me. The boys had obviously seen my escape. I scrambled out of the river, shivering in the cold air and my gun still clasped tightly in my hand. "Get in!" Vaughn yelled from the driver's seat, as Weiss gave me a hand.

Sighing with relief as I slumped down on the van's floor, I heard Weiss slam the door shut above me. He offered me an old blanket when he was done. "Hey, Syd." He greeted. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Ready to go home."

To Be Continued…


	4. Betrayal

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Four:

Los Angeles

I sighed. Home again. I dumped my stuff in the doorway and kicked off my shoes, before doing my customary sweep of my apartment. I sighed again and headed straight for the shower. It had been a long day – after getting back from the mission I had been yelled at by everyone. And all this jet setting was finally making me feel a bit like a yo-yo – not to mention the people and organisations that still seemed to want something from me: the CIA, the NSC, the Covenant, Dixon, my Dad, Vaughn, Bennetti…the list goes on.

Having grabbed a burger on the way home, I didn't bother cooking myself any dinner after I climbed out the shower. Not the healthiest, I know, but I was too tired to care. Instead, I settled down on the couch and opened Isabella Rambaldi's diary warily, unsure as to what I would find. The next few entries after the first were mostly about 15th Century Italian life, so I skipped over them. But the fifth entry caught my eye.

_April 21st 1427,_

_It seems the cold English mercenary does have a soul, for Edward was actually nice to me today. He brought me dinner after that vicious man who calls himself my father banished me to my rooms for disobeying him. He seems to be growing more and more obsessed every day._

_The dinner was only cold meat and a little stale bread, but it was a kind gesture I did not know he was capable of. Perhaps I have underestimated him, as one perhaps underestimates the devil. But maybe Edward de L'Archier is a devil I can trust._

_Isabella o _

I raised my eyebrows at that. I wonder if she ever did trust him – and then just how he betrayed that trust. But all that was forgotten after I spotted the next entry and began to read.

_April 26th 1427,_

_My father's obsession is far worse than I had feared. He revealed the second part of his prophecy to me today, seeming to take great pleasure in watching me cringe. He keeps telling me that I will be born again and that when that happens, I shall fulfill his plans. That cannot be true, for when I die my soul will go to Heaven. But in case there is a woman who will one day share my face, I hope she finds this diary so that she may read of the evil deeds of my father and find a way to stop his terrible plans. I fear I do not have the strength to stop him myself._

_To that end, I have recorded as much of the prophecy's second half as I can remember:_

…_the woman here depicted shall also possess a savior…a tormented soul, his one chance at redemption shall lie in her hands…this woman shall have to make the choice to destroy his soul, for only then will my plans be completed…_

_The man who is destined to be her savior has Edward's face. I do not know if that means anything, but perhaps the woman who shares my face and the man that shares Edward's face will have a chance to defeat my father's plans if they face him together._

_Isabella o _

I shut the diary, feeling chilled. There was a second part to Rambaldi's prophecy? And it involved Sark…as my savior? I shivered. There was just something inherently frightening about that.

I wondered if the CIA knew anything about it. I wondered if my mother knew. Making a note to ask Dixon in the morning, I gathered up the diary and headed to my room to get a few hours sleep. I'd have to talk to my father too, see what he could find out about this.

Just as I stuffed the diary under my pillow, I heard a knock at the door. Suddenly tense, I grabbed my gun (which never seemed far from my grasp, even at home) and padded softly to the door. Peering out, I was surprised to see Vaughn standing out in the hall. Hiding my gun slightly behind me, I opened the door a crack.

"What do you want, Vaughn?" I snapped.

"Syd, we need to talk." He told me softly.

Maybe we did, but I didn't want to go into all that right now. "Do you think midnight is really a good time for this?" I asked him, weariness evident in my tone. "Besides, what would your wife think?"

It might have been a low blow to mention his wife, but I had to remind myself of all that had happened. It would be so easy to just throw myself into his arms and pretend everything was okay, even just for a little while. To pretend I still loved him.

"She's out in the car." Vaughn told me.

"Oh." I said, but it wasn't the fact that Lauren knew about this that surprised me so much – it was my thoughts. "You'd better come in then."

Standing back to let Vaughn come in, I wondered if it really was true…I know I had been pretending for a long time that everything was okay, but was it partly true? I had to say yes…I didn't love Vaughn that way anymore, not really. But I still had to let it go. His betrayal had hurt, but I didn't have to hold onto that pain anymore.

They say self-discovery is liberating, and it is in a way. Of course, now I just had to tell all this to the man now seated on my couch and giving me a sad look. Sighing, I sat down and put my gun on the table next to me. Vaughn looked at the weapon in surprise. "Do you really need that?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "You mean after what's happened to me lately? And the whole fact I disappeared for two years?" I asked him.

"Okay." He said, with a smile to try to placate me. "Point taken."

It was really beginning to annoy me that people did that. Was I really so angry and impatient that they felt the need to soothe the raging beast? I would ask someone, but I don't think they'd take it too well. "So?" I asked, looking directly at Vaughn. "You obviously have something on your mind?"

"Well, we haven't really had a chance to talk properly since you got back." He said. "And that's not meant to sound like criticism. I know you've had a lot on your mind."

"Yeah." I said with a slight smile. "That's an understatement."

I guess I'd forgotten that before we fell in love, Vaughn and I had been good friends. He'd been there for me at a time when no one else had. That was something worth keeping. Maybe we could be friends again. It was time to let the past go and stop punishing him and myself for something that had been ultimately out of our control.

"Sydney, I really did love you. But I love Lauren now. She's not you, but she's someone special." Vaughn told me, a slight smile gracing his lips when he spoke of his wife. "I just wanted you to know that. I know it's difficult…"

"I understand, Vaughn." I said, and I really meant it. "And I did love you too."

"But you don't anymore?" Vaughn's expression was a mix of hurt and hope. Hurt to his ego more than anything, though.

"No." I answered. "Not like I did. Doesn't mean we can't be friends though, right?"

Vaughn smiled – the first genuine smile I had seen directed at me in a long time. "I'd like that." He replied.

"Good." I smiled back.

Together, we got up to leave as we all (including Lauren, who was still stuck out in the car) needed some sleep before work tomorrow. I paused at the door. "I'll see you both tomorrow." I told Vaughn. "And next time, tell Lauren she can come inside."

Vaughn smiled sheepishly. "I'll tell her."

"Good night, Vaughn." I said.

"Good night, Syd." He smiled, before walking off down the corridor.

I sighed as I shut the door to my apartment, feeling as if a large weight had been lifted off my chest. "You know, I never managed to stay friends with my ex-wife." Commented a familiar voice from behind me.

I whirled, cursing that I left my gun next to the couch. "Just where do you people think this is? Union Station?" I snarled at Bennetti.

Just like last time, he was leaning up against the wall, his ankles crossed and looking at ease. An amused smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Alright, what do you want?" I snapped, hoping to get this over and done with as soon as I could. "Because, strange as it sounds, I would like to sleep tonight!"

Bennetti pushed himself away from the wall, his expression turning serious. I watched him, looking for an opportunity to go for my gun. "Things have changed, Sydney." He said. "Have you read the diary yet?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Some of it." I said.

"Then you are beginning to understand." Bennetti said. "You _must_ be the one to find the second half of the prophecy, Sydney."

"Well, where is it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bennetti gave me a small smile. "In the Himalayas."

I tensed when the implication of that sunk in. The missing Rambaldi manuscript we had recently found the location of – that was the second half of the prophecy! "You have to be the one to find it, Sydney." Bennetti said again. "No one but you."

I nodded. "I will." I said.

"Good." Bennetti said. "Thank you."

He turned, as if to leave, but I had a question for him before he did. "Why are you helping me?"

He turned back to face me. "I am a direct descendant of Isabella Rambadi. I have no more wish to see her father's depraved prophecy come true than you do."

In a world full of shadows, lies and half-truths like mine is, someone telling you the unvarnished truth is a rare thing. And Bennetti was telling me the truth. I could feel it in my gut. "Thank you." I said.

Bennetti smiled. "Good luck, Sydney."

He disappeared into the kitchen and presumably out whichever escape route he had. I sighed. It had been a long day followed by an even longer night. Time to grab a couple of hours sleep before I had to wake up again – assuming, of course, no one else decided to pay me a visit tonight.

* * *

I groaned when the alarm clock went off. It couldn't be morning already! Blinking blurrily at the numbers on the clock face, I groaned again when I saw it was. I slapped the off button on the alarm and slumped back down on my pillow. Maybe if I pretended it was still night, my conscience would let me sleep in a little.

Sadly, not. I growled in annoyance as my alarm went off for a second time and I remembered everything that Bennetti had told me last night. Fine! I was up!

I staggered into the kitchen for a cup of coffee just as my cell rang. Frowning, I wondered what it could be and left the coffee percolating as I staggered back to my bedroom to answer it. "Yes?" I growled in greeting to whoever was on the other end.

"Hello, Sydney." A familiar British accented voice greeted, sounding far to charming for this time in the morning. "Did I wake you?"

I snarled in annoyance at yet another person deciding to complicate my life and slapped my phone shut. Maybe Sark would be so offended that I hung up on him that he'd forget about whatever he was going to tell me. No luck. The phone rang again.

"That was rude, Sydney." Sark told me when I answered for a second time.

"Go to Hell, Sark." I snapped back.

Sark chuckled. "You're really not a morning person, are you?" he commented.

"No." I answered. "And if that's all you called me to say, I'm hanging up again."

"I have a deal for you, Sydney." He said and I could almost hear the smirk. "I have the vial and you have the manuscript's location. Why don't we go after it together?"

"Because I don't work for the Covenant." I said. "You can tell your masters there's no deal."

"How do you know it isn't just from me?" Sark asked.

Now it was my turn to laugh softly. "If it was from you, Sark, you'd be standing in my kitchen as you offered it."

Sark laughed. "I told them you wouldn't go for it, but they wouldn't listen." He said. "Oh, well. I tried. No doubt, I'll see you soon, Sydney."

"You going to get your ass kicked." I told him. "That was a mean trick in Prague."

"I did owe you for Argentina." Sark replied.

"Doesn't matter." I said. "You'll pay."

There was a chuckle and a click as Sark hung up the phone. I put my cell phone down, feeling a little confused. The Covenant was getting bolder if they were calling me to make deals. Or maybe it was desperate. I sighed. Yet another complication I just didn't need or want. I grabbed my coffee and headed for the shower.

* * *

By the time I got to work, I was still confused. At least I'd had a couple of cups of coffee by now to wake me up. I ignored the now usual stares as I made my way to my desk. I wanted to talk to Dixon about Rambaldi's prophecy, but decided to do a quick search in the CIA database first. Maybe one of the research sections knew something about it.

As I searched the database, I noticed a bit of a commotion around the door, but thought nothing of it as an entry caught my eye. According to the database, the CIA _did_ know that there was a second half to Rambaldi's prophecy, but as far as they could tell, it had been destroyed in the 18th Century.

I looked up again, as the office around me began to talk in excited whispers. I was just in time to catch Director Kendall walking towards the elevators, with Dad, Lindsay and Dixon beside him, all deep in conversation. That was weird, because according to all reports, Dixon had taken over after Kendall had left for another division.

Something told me this was important, and when I saw the elevator was heading to the _roof_ instead of down, I made a quick decision to follow them. Grabbing my coat, I smiled as Weiss looked over. "I'm just going out to grab another coffee." I said. "Want anything?"

"No, I'm good." Weiss replied.

"Okay." I replied. "See you in about ten minutes."

I headed to the elevators as well, hoping that no one else would be waiting. Luckily, they weren't. I slipped inside and rode up to the roof, the slow ride making my nerves flutter and impatience curl in my gut. Something was happening and my instincts told me it was very important.

As soon as I got to the roof, I snuck down the short corridor to the door that lead out to the helipad. Opening the door, I saw that the men were well over the other side of the roof, so I snuck out the door. Immediately, the wind blew my hair into my face and through my clothes. I zipped my coat shut and headed for the satellite dish on this side of the roof, hoping it would be close enough, yet give me enough cover to eavesdrop.

Crouching in the shadows, I listened to what they were saying. Luckily, I was close enough that the wind didn't snatch the words away. "…do you think she has any idea?" Kendall was asking.

"About the second half of the prophecy?" Dad said. "No. She doesn't know. And I want to keep it that way."

"We all know about your concern for your daughter's safety, Agent Bristow." Lindsay snapped. "But you can't keep her in the dark forever."

"I'll tell her when she's ready." Dad snapped back.

Dixon was the next to speak. "She won't thank you for it. If she found out that we all knew and didn't tell her, I don't think she'd forgive us."

"It doesn't matter." Kendall told him. "We just need to stop her reading that manuscript."

I sagged further into the shadows, shocked by what I had just heard. I was utterly and completely unable to do anything but gape in horrified shock for a long moment, completely paralyzed. And it was probably just as well that I was, because at that moment Vaughn walked out from the corridor from the elevator and headed over to the men. The fact I was hidden in the shadows and completely motionless was probably the only thing that stopped him from seeing me.

"You asked to see me?" he said as he approached.

"Thank you for meeting us, Agent Vaughn." Kendall said. "We need to talk to you about Sydney Bristow."

"What about Sydney?" The only comfort I had was that Vaughn went immediately defensive on my behalf.

"We need you to do something for us." Dad said.

"I'm not doing anything that's going to hurt Sydney." Vaughn said firmly.

"We need you to help us protect her." Dixon said. "There is a second part of Rambaldi's prophecy that she doesn't know about. We need to keep it that way."

"The manuscript." Vaughn said, putting two and two together.

"Yes." Dad told him. "We need you to be the one to find it and bring it back."

"But I thought we couldn't read it until we had the vial?"

Dad shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Sydney doesn't need to know anything except it's another Rambaldi manuscript."

"You're not going to tell her?" Vaughn asked, incredulous.

Dad shot him a sharp glare. "Whether or not I'm going to tell her is none of your business, Agent Vaughn. But, yes I am going to tell her."

That seemed to calm Vaughn. "Okay. I'll help you. But if you don't tell Sydney soon, I will."

The pain of betrayal was so sharp, nothing else compared to it. Not even being shot. I felt tears gathering in my eyes. How could they have done this to me? Have known and not told me? Was I just another of their stupid pawns, to be told only the information I needed to know? Almost immediately, a sense of rage followed the feelings of betrayal and grief. How dare they treat me like this after everything I had sacrificed for them!

Since the men were all still deep in conversation, I took my opportunity to slip back inside and down to my desk. I walked there in a daze, still trying to process what I had just learnt and careful not to cry. "Hey, Syd? You okay?" Weiss looked over at me.

I pasted a bright smile on my face, even though that was the last thing I was feeling right now. But he seemed to believe it. Long years of practice had made it seem real, I suppose. "I forgot my purse!" I told him. "I think I really need that coffee!"

Weiss chuckled. "I think you do too. But why don't you just grab one from the kitchen?"

I shot him a mock glare, still trying to make him think I was the same cheerful Sydney who had walked in this morning – like the whole fabric of my world had not just been ripped apart. "Come on, Weiss. We both know that stuff tastes awful!"

Still smiling my fake smile, I grabbed my purse and headed back to the elevators. My only thought was to get out of there. And then suddenly, I had another. Changing direction, I headed down to Marshall's lab as quickly as I could, knowing the tech was working with someone else this morning and wouldn't be there. As quickly as I could, I grabbed a copy of the coordinates to the missing manuscript. If they weren't going to let me see it, then I'd just have to find it for myself.

I made my way back to the elevators and slipped inside one, just as the other opened and Vaughn, Dad, Dixon, Kendall and Lindsay all walked out. I sighed in relief at having missed them as the elevator headed down to the parking garage, and I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, tears threatening once more.

The doors dinged softly as they opened, and I brushed the tears from my cheeks. I just wanted to get out of here and away from everything.

* * *

As I drove home, a reckless and impulsive plan formed in my head. Part of me couldn't believe I was contemplating such a thing, but the other part was wondering why I hadn't done this sooner. By the time I was standing in the middle of my kitchen, I was ready to put my radical plan into action. I wondered if I was truly considering giving up everything I knew. For the past eight years, this job had been my life. Was I truly considering turning my back everything and everyone I knew?

The simple answer: yes. Because, for all those years, I had been a pawn in someone else's game. It was time I stopped – after all, Rambaldi had written a prophecy about me for a reason. It was about time I showed the world just what I was capable of.

Knowing I had to move quickly, before someone realised I was gone and came after me, I walked over to the kitchen and put down my keys. Then I removed my gun and ID, and put them next to my keys, before adding my cell phone and pager. I gave a final glance to the vestiges of what was soon to become my old life, before turning away and heading for my bedroom. Let the CIA think of that as they will.

I quickly changed into jeans and a sweater, and slipped a pair of sunglasses onto my head, after tying my hair into a ponytail. I shoved some cash into my pocket and headed for the door. Pausing in the doorway to my apartment, I gave a final glance to the empty rooms and objects, before turning and walking away without a qualm.

As I slipped on my sunglasses against the bright sunshine outside, I realised that this moment was so easy because it had been a long time in coming. There was finally nothing left for me here anymore.

* * *

I caught the train into the city centre, careful to melt into the crowd as I journeyed to my safehouse. It was nothing more than a tiny apartment, but it had everything I would need. I had set it up years ago in case I ran into trouble as a double agent. I wasn't sure if my father knew about its location, but it didn't matter. The message I had left back at my apartment was fairly clear.

Grabbing a suitcase, I gathered the clothes and wigs I kept in the apartment, keeping only one set free to change into. Long practice made the process of changing clothes, putting on a wig and redoing my makeup quick and efficient. I added my makeup bag to my suitcase and left my old clothes neatly folded on the bed.

Finally, I walked over to the hidden safe and pulled out two spare guns – both went into the hidden compartment in my suitcase – some money, a new cell phone and a group of passports – all but one going into the hidden compartment too.

I hailed a passing cab outside the apartment and carefully climbed in. "Where to?" the driver grunted at me.

"LAX." I told him, slipping on a new pair of sunglasses and saying a final goodbye to my old life.

* * *

Ireland

I rented a car by cash when I got to France and drove to London. From there, I zigzagged my way to Ireland, stopping quite a few times to change clothes and cars. I didn't want anyone to know where I was heading yet because I was sure they knew I had disappeared by now.

Finally, I pulled up about halfway down a dirt road and climbed out of the unremarkable sedan I had rented in Dublin. Grabbing a pair of binoculars, I got out and walked around to sit on the hood of the car. My breath misted in the air. It was a lot colder here than it had been in LA and, as a result, I was dressed in sturdy boots, dark jeans, a cream sweater, a leather jacket and gloves. It also didn't help that it was late autumn and you could feel winter on its way.

Using the binoculars, I stared out at the large house on the cliff in front of me. I had asked around the small village of Clifden, which the house was near, and the man I had come to see was home. Knowing him like I did, I was just here to make sure he was in the country and to scope the place out. After all, Julian Sark was not the type of man you could easily sneak up on.

The house stood large and foreboding on the cliff about a mile or two outside town. The rolling green of the hills surrounding it looked even more vibrant against the dark stone of the house and the grey-blue ocean that extended out beyond the house. I could hear the waves pounding at the bottom of the cliffs and salt was heavy on the air. The golden sun was low in the sky and cast everything in a golden light. There was still an hour or two until sunset however.

As I watched, a sleek black car pulled up the long drive to the house and stopped in front of the door. It was both fast and expensive, so I felt no surprise when Sark climbed, dressed as always in a black suit. He wore a long coat over it in deference to the bite in the air, which billowed slightly as he stalked to the front door. It opened as he approached, to reveal a tall dark haired man. Sark pushed past the man and continued into the house, as the man shut the door. I smiled wryly. It seemed Sark was still unhappy about being at the beck and call of the Covenant. But that was all about to change.

I glanced over the house again, but nothing had changed from the last few times. The house was a fortress, which really shouldn't have surprised me – but it meant that I wasn't going to be able to get in easily without an invite. I probably could if I really had to, but there were easier ways to do this.

Sighing, I slid of the hood and got back into the car and headed back to Galway.

To Be Continued…


	5. The Second Half

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter has taken so long! As we all know, Christmas is the crazy season, and it's been even crazier than usual! Hopefully, things will calm down soon!

Cheeky.

* * *

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Five:

Galway

To pass the next few hours, I drove back to Galway to do some shopping and to plot my next move. If I knew Sark well enough, and I was hoping I did, he would no doubt make an appearance at one of the elegant, expensive restaurants for dinner, giving me the opportunity I needed.

I walked down the streets, listening to the curious mix of languages that seemed a natural part of the city. My trained ear could pick up the various conversations in French, German and English, as well as several others. Slipping through the crowds of shoppers, I paused when a shop caught my eye. The clothes in the window were funky and they would have been something I would have loved to wear…

I finished the thought: had I not been an agent with the CIA. Well, technically, I had left my resignation notice back in my kitchen in Los Angeles, so I wasn't really a CIA agent anymore. So why the hell couldn't I go and buy some new clothes to celebrate that?

Walking into the shop, I paused a minute to look over the clothes and shoes inside the shop. Rock music drifted out from somewhere and I couldn't help but smile. I think a lot of people would be shocked at this side of Sydney Bristow, but I was sick of hiding. I was finally going to be exactly who I was – not what people wanted me to be.

"Hello, there." A voice said to me, and I turned to find a woman standing at my elbow.

She was dressed in tight dark blue jeans with heeled leather boots over them that came to her knees. Her stomach was bare and her black top had a high neck and long, flowing sleeves. Her outfit was completed with her long black hair done in tiny braids and what looked like a fedora at a jaunty angle on her head.

"My name is Sonja. And this is my shop." She gave me a knowing smile. "Feeling like a change?"

"Sydney." I replied. "And I guess I do feel like a change, in a way. I'm sick of being what everyone wants me to be."

Sonja raised her eyebrows, but she nodded as if she knew just what I meant. "You're an American, by the sounds. Wanted a change of scenery too?"

I nodded with a smile. "Yeah."

"Well, Sydney." She said, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Let's see what we can do!"

* * *

I tried to keep the knowing smile off my face as I sauntered into the restaurant and saw Sark's familiar blond head. He was sitting alone at a table, just finishing his meal and thankfully he wasn't facing me. I didn't want to give him any opportunity to get away from me.

Thanks to Sonja, I was feeling better than I had in a long time, with a funky new haircut, new clothes and new shoes. I wore a short black dress that hugged my figure in all the right places and knee high heeled boots with silver buckles down the sides – which I thought were probably some of the sexiest shoes I'd ever owned! My hair hung in funky layers all around my face and down my back (including a fringe that fell over one eye) and my eyes were outlined with black eyeliner. I liked the new look. It was more kick-butt that the old one, just like I felt.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" the maitre de asked me.

"I'm here to meet a friend." I said, giving him a knowing smile and nodding towards Sark. I used all the tricks I had picked up over the years to get my way, but this time I didn't hide behind any mission persona. It was all me. "It's a surprise."

"Ma'am, I'm not sure…" the maitre de said.

I interrupted him. "Please? I haven't seen him in such a long time, and I really was hoping to surprise him."

The maitre de narrowed his eyes. "He usually eats alone." He said.

"I know." I replied. "That's why I wanted to surprise him here."

Sighing, the maitre de gave in. "Very well. But if he doesn't appreciate the surprise, I will have to ask you to leave."

"Thank you." I told him, before sauntering off to 'surprise' Sark.

I studied him as I walked up. Just like at the party in Prague, I noticed he seemed weary, and his shoulders were slightly slumped, as if he was carrying a large weight. This was unusual as the Sark I remembered never let anything get to him. Maybe the last two years _had_ changed him.

"Is this seat taken?" I asked, before slipping into the chair opposite him anyway.

Sark's head snapped up, startled. I delighted in the feeling of having the tables turned for once. "Sydney?" he said curiously.

I leant forward and put my chin on my arms, which were propped on the table. "Sark."

"Should I expect a few of your friends to rush over and arrest me again?" Sark asked me, although there seemed to be an undercurrent of exhaustion in his voice. "Or are you going to do it yourself?"

"I'm not here to arrest you, Sark." I told him. "I'm here because you told me that if I ever wanted to combine our forces…you'd be open to it."

I couldn't keep the smirk off my face as I watched Sark's mask slip for a second as I surprised him for a second time in as many minutes. I was beginning to like doing that. Surprise was closely followed by hope before his mask snapped back into place. "Are you proposing a partnership, Sydney?" Sark asked smoothly.

"I do believe I am." I replied.

Sark gave me a piercing look. "How do I know this isn't a trap?"

My expression turned serious. I had known Sark wouldn't just trust my word, so I had come prepared. I slid a disk across the table. "This is a copy of the location of Rambaldi's missing manuscript, which also happens to be the second part of his prophecy."

That got me Sark's attention. "And what do you want in return?" he asked.

"I want to find out what's in that prophecy…and I need help in taking down the Covenant." I told him. "And you don't need to worry about the CIA. I quit."

Sark slowly began to smile. "Does the CIA know you've quit?" he asked, amusement making his eyes almost seem warm.

"It might take them a little while, but they'll get the idea. They can be rather slow." I said, smirking.

"Well, I do believe this calls for celebration." Sark said and motioned a waiter over.

Somehow the waiter knew Sark's favourite wine, because I soon had a glass of Chateau Patreuse '82 sitting in front of me. "To our new partnership." Sark toasted. "May the Covenant only find out when it's too late."

"To our new partnership." I echoed.

I took a sip of the wine, which was excellent (Sark never did things by halves) and looked at Sark. His characteristic smirk was on his face and seemingly unconcerned, he simply sipped his own glass of wine while he regarded me with cool blue eyes.

So that was how I ended up in one of the strangest situations I've been in, and believe me, I've been in many. But somehow, as weird as it was to have dinner with the man who had been my sworn enemy for years and now was my partner, it also felt right. Like this was meant to be. I can't say I was utterly delighted at the feeling, as destiny had always made me a little nervous, but I felt better than I had in a very long time. I felt free.

"Since the CIA has a copy of these coordinates, I take it you would like to retrieve the manuscript as soon as possible?" he asked me.

I nodded. "The coordinates are somewhere in the Himalayas." I said. "So I'd pack something warm."

Sark smirked. "I'll make a note of that. Is departing at 7'o'clock tomorrow morning too early for you?"

"It's fine." I said, taking another sip of wine.

Sark inclined his head in agreement. "Then I suppose I shall see you at airport tomorrow, Sydney."

I nodded, getting up to leave. We didn't fully trust each other, and I'm not sure I ever would, but it was enough for now. As I turned to walk away, Sark made a comment that made me turn back around to face him and raise an interested eyebrow. "Before you go, Sydney, I have to tell you that I like your new look."

"Thank you." I replied. "I thought it was time to stop being what everyone else thought I should be."

Sark nodded, as if understanding the feeling. He probably did, come to think of it. His characteristic smirk was back on his face and as I left, I could feel his eyes following me across the room. I shot a final glance over my shoulder before I slipped out the door to retrieve my coat. Sark caught my glance and raised his glass. Smiling, I grabbed my coat and slipped back out into the chilly Irish night.

* * *

At 7am the next morning, I arrived at the airport and was directed to Mr. Sark's private plane. It seemed working for yourself had some perks that the CIA didn't. Strangely, I was running a little late. Now that I didn't have to fit the CIA agent mould, it had taken me longer to get ready. At least I knew I looked good.

I was dressed in dark jeans, with my buckled boots over the top, much like Sonja had worn. My top was lacy and black, with a blood red sweater under my leather jacket. My makeup was the same as last night underneath my sunglasses. The look was completely different to the Sydney Bristow everyone thought they knew…and I kind of liked that feeling.

"Miss Bristow?" a male voice with an Irish lilt asked as I approached the sleek private plane on one of the smaller runways.

I turned, my muscled tensed and ready and my hand hovering close to my gun. I recognised the man standing behind me as the man who had greeted Sark back at his house, so I lowered my guard a fraction. "Yes?" I asked warily.

"My name is Liam." He said, his green eyes glinting with amusement. "I'm a friend of Mr. Sark's. May I take your bags?"

Still warily regarding Liam, I let him take my bags and direct me towards the open door of Sark's plane. "Sure." I answered.

Watching Liam out the corner of my eye, I walked up the stairs into the plane, slipping my sunglasses onto the top of my head as I did so. He followed me, before placing my bag in a small cupboard (I made sure I knew which one) and heading towards the cockpit.

"Good morning, Sydney." Sark greeted.

I looked over to where Sark was casually sitting on one of the leather seats, dressed in dark jeans and a black jumper, his black coat slung over the back of the chair. It was more casually than I had ever seen him dressed, if you didn't count the sweats he wore while he was imprisoned. Obviously, my dark look amused him, because he smirked before motioning to the large cup of coffee on the small table in front of him. "Coffee?" he asked.

"Thank you." I said grudgingly, before slumping down in the chair opposite. Mornings really weren't my best time of day.

Sipping the coffee, a discrete chime sounded before the pilot notified us that we would be taking off soon. I had to say I was impressed. Sark must have noticed, because his smirk got bigger. "Relax and enjoy the ride, Sydney." He said.

"That's easy for you to say." I muttered.

Sark settled back down into his seat and pulled out what looked like a mystery novel and began to read. I continued to drink my coffee, hunkering down further into my seat as I watched Sark read. He seemed completely unconcerned by what I was sure was a dark look being directed at him. As the caffeine began to kick in, I began to feel restless. I hadn't thought to bring a book of my own because I never needed one on my CIA missions – I was always too busy going over the mission specs or catching up on my sleep.

Finally, my fidgeting and constant shifting seemed too much for even Sark's impressive patience. He tossed me a folder. "The coordinates you gave me appear to be a small monastery." He said.

I winced slightly when I looked over at him, although I cursed myself for it. "Sorry." I felt compelled to apologise for disturbing him, which was strange in itself, because I never would have in the past.

"Don't be." Sark replied, before motioning to the novel he had put down. "It was too predictable. I knew who did it after the first thirty pages."

I had to smile at that. "I don't think the author took it into account that spies would ever read it." I said.

"Perhaps." Sark agreed with a shrug. "I took the liberty of obtaining some clothes and equipment for the climb."

"Climb?" I echoed, trying to keep track of the change in topic.

The second I opened the folder Sark had thrown at me, I realised. It seemed that while we could fly a chopper most of the way up the mountain face, where the monastery was located, we would have to climb the final stretch on foot. The monastery was located behind one of the peaks on the side of another, in a valley of sorts, preventing the chopper from flying directly there. So we'd have to go around the first face on foot. Thankfully, I knew how to climb a mountain, although I wasn't looking forward to it.

"Do we have to climb the whole thing?" I asked Sark, slipping completely back into mission-mode.

Sark shook his head in answer. "No. You can't see it very well on the photograph, but my information tells me there should be a path to the monastery from halfway around the first face." He explained. "It shouldn't take us more than an hour."

"Good." I muttered, before looking up. "Do we know if the CIA is sending anyone?"

Sark arched an eyebrow. "I would have thought that was your department." He smirked.

I narrowed my eyes in response. "Very funny." I muttered. "You know I severed all ties when I resigned."

Sark's smirk got wider as he successfully riled me up. That man seemed to take pleasure in always doing that – even now that we were effectively on the same side. "No, I don't know if the CIA is sending someone." He answered my question. "But my guess would be yes. By now they have no doubt discovered you accessed the coordinates before you left and they'll want to reach them first."

I sighed. "I thought you were going to say that." I said. "Oh, well. If they get there first, we'll just have to steal the manuscript back."

At my comment, Sark grinned outright. "Steal from the CIA?" he said, amusement clear in his voice. "When you finally decide to go out on your own, you don't do it by halves, do you?"

I shrugged. "They've lied to me for the last time." I told him. "You'd do well to remember that. I can still shoot you."

Sark shook his head with a soft chuckle. "That be necessary, Sydney." He said, before settling back in his seat to regard me with yet another smirk. "I do believe I'm going to have fun working with you."

"Shut up, Sark."

* * *

Ten hours later, my mood hadn't improved. In fact, it had gotten significantly worse, because now my face felt frozen, as were my fingers and toes. It didn't matter that in addition to the hiking boots, thick socks and specially designed cold-wear jackets and pants (in black – Sark did bring them, after all), I wore gloves, a beanie and several layers underneath. It was _freezing_ up here. I wore sunglasses too, but somehow, I don't think they helped warm my face any.

At least on the up side, neither Sark nor I had spotted anyone else climbing up this stupid mountain.

The downside was that despite having slogged up the mountain for an hour, we still weren't at the monastery. Hell, we couldn't even see the monastery yet! That, combined with the cold, the rough path and my already bad temper, had turned me into a very grumpy Sydney. Lord help _anyone_ who got in my way today!

Still grumbling to myself, I followed the rocky and icy path around a corner and suddenly stopped in surprise. Spread out before me, was a magnificent and sprawling building that was a part of the mountain is stood on. I stood there for a moment and just gazed at it. I felt Sark come up behind me and do the same. "Looks like we what we were looking for." He said softly.

I just nodded, still gazing at the graceful and beautiful monastery. A path of brick started just beyond the corner, making walking easier and somehow it even seemed warmer here. Sark and I walked up to the large carved doors set into the stone wall that surrounded the monastery, and they swung open as soon as we were close enough.

"Not a very good security system." Sark muttered.

I shrugged. It made things easier for us. My smartass reply died on my tongue when I saw what was beyond those gates, however. A lush and green garden spread out from either side of the path, completely strange considering we were in the middle of the Himalayas! But I suppose when you considered that Rambaldi was able to keep a flower alive for centuries in a sealed container, maybe not so strange.

It was also a lot warmer here; think spring in LA. I had no idea why and wasn't sure I wanted to find out. It did make things annoying though, as I was dressed for cold and snow and ice, not the tropics! I continued up the path, Sark a step behind me. To either side of me were plants that I didn't recognise in the slightest, and while I may not be a botanist or anything like that, I had a feeling that these plants had been considered extinct for centuries.

Beyond us and the garden, the monastery itself rose up and towered over us. The monastery was made of grey stone that made it look like part of the mountain-side. Its many layered roof was covered in a thick layer of snow. Graceful, arching windows looked out over the garden and the path led to a set of stone steps that led to another large, carved wooden door, like the one in the wall.

As we approached closer to the steps, the doors opened to reveal an old man dressed in the traditional orange robes of a senior Buddhist monk. His face was lined with age and his head was bald, but he gazed as Sark and me with alert and intelligent brown eyes. He smiled as his eyes slid to me. "I am glad you have come, Isabella." He told me, his voice rough with age.

His smile faded slightly when he spotted Sark over my shoulder and his eyes widened in surprise. "He is with you." He sounded almost awed by this, before grinning so much his entire face lit up. "I should never have doubted. Come, you will be wanting an explanation."

As he disappeared inside the monastery again, I heard Sark speak from behind me. "Isabella?" he asked, his voice as cold as the mountain we had just climbed.

I turned to face him and saw he now wore the polished mask of the cold-blooded killer I had once believed him only to be. In that moment, I feared that whatever ground we had gained over the last few days had been lost. Breathing out a long sigh, I prepared to tell Sark the truth I had only told my father knowing it would be the only thing that would regain his trust. Why that was so important, I'm not sure, but it went beyond his help with my mission.

"Isabella Rambaldi." I said. "Milo's daughter. I look exactly like her and recently I've been having dreams of _being_ her, except they feel more like memories to me."

"And this monk believes you are her?" Sark asked, but he lost some of the coldness to his expression.

I shrugged. "I don't know what he thinks." I said truthfully. "But I know others do."

Sark nodded slowly, seeming to accept my explanation. "Perhaps we should hear his explanation." He finally replied.

Nodding, I turned back to the steps and walked into the monastery. The elderly monk was waiting for us just inside the door, but didn't say anything despite the curiosity in his expression. He led us up several flights of stairs and along many corridors into the deep heart of the monastery, until we reached a large room. An altar was set up at one end, covered in softly glowing candles, and the echo of chanting gave everything a slight eeriness.

The monk didn't stop until we had reached the altar, which I now noticed held a dark wooden box. He stopped just in front of it, but made no move to open it. Instead, he turned to face Sark and me. "Before you learn the second half of the prophecy, there is something I must ask you." He said.

I looked at him suspiciously, but nodded. I was willing to listen, at least. "Are you going to stop him?" the monk asked.

He was direct. I'll give him that. Wary of his allegiance, I nodded my assent. Yes, I would do everything within my power to stop the Covenant and whoever else bringing Rambaldi's prophecy true. The monk smiled. "Good." He said. "I had feared that you would try to see it come true. But together, nothing will stand in your way."

I shot a glance at Sark and found he was watching the monk with a wary expression very similar to mine – but there was also a sense of recognition about it, like he had known something more about this. It went beyond his assertions that we had been destined to work together, but perhaps…maybe I was being silly, but what if Sark was convinced we were destined to work together because he had _seen_ it, like I had seen Isabella's memories? Stranger things had happened to me…often.

"You have the second half of the prophecy?" he asked the monk as I watched.

The monk nodded and opened the wooden box on the altar. Inside I could see familiar pages of parchment, yellowed with age, much like the original ones I had stolen for Sloane…and then the CIA. "Do you have the liquid to read them?" the monk asked.

Sark nodded and drew a vial of clear liquid out of his jacket. "Here." He passed the vial to the monk, who took out the pages of the prophecy and then carefully sprinkled the liquid over them.

"Thank you for honouring me." The monk said, with a slight bow in our direction.

"Honouring you?" I asked.

He nodded. "I had never thought that I would be present when the prophecy was read." He said. "I have guarded it all my life, but I never thought I would ever know what was written on the pages."

I raised my eyebrows at his explanation, but said nothing. I could understand where he was coming from. Moving closer to Sark, who had shifted so he stood at the altar in front of the spread pages, I peered over his shoulder as wiry script began to appear. "So?" I asked him.

"The woman here depicted shall also possess a saviour, a man destined to save her from darkness. A tormented soul, his one chance at redemption shall lie in her hands. But for her destiny to be fulfilled, this woman shall have to make the choice to destroy his soul, for only then shall my plans be completed." Sark intoned the words.

The words surrounded two pictures…two faces. Mine and Sark's.

"Well, I always knew you'd be the one to kill me, Sydney." Sark said with a wry smile, but it did not match the sadness in his eyes.

"No!" the monk said. "You cannot kill him! If you kill him Milo Rambaldi will win!"

Looking at Sark, I considered it. If Rambaldi would win with Sark's death, then I would do anything in my power to keep the son-of-a-bitch alive, no matter my thoughts about him. Although, considering I had voluntarily decided to work with him, perhaps I didn't dislike him that much. There was a slightly vulnerable expression in Sark's eyes that threw me for a second, however. So I answered straight from the heart.

"I'm not going to kill you Sark." I said softly.

The monk smiled and seemed about to say something, when the sound of gunfire exploded around the quiet peace of the monastery. The monk looked scared for a moment, but seemed to gain control of it quite quickly. "You must go." He said tersely.

I nodded as a burst of answering gunfire sounded. "The Covenant." I muttered.

"The CIA." Sark added.

We shared a look, before I began to gather the prophecy up as fast as I could. Beside me, Sark slid out his satellite phone and dialled the chopper that brought up halfway up the mountain. "We need a pickup." He snapped quickly. "Now."

He hung up and looked at me. "We need to get around to the other side of that face. Otherwise we'll miss our ride."

I grimaced slightly at his poor attempt at humour and shoved the now leather-bound prophecy into my jacket to keep it secure. "Which way?" I asked him.

With a smirk, Sark said, "You could try the door."

I glared back. "Thanks." I snapped. "That's so helpful!"

We ran to the door and Sark drew his gun as we peered out, but it appeared that the Covenant and the CIA had not got this far into the monastery yet. From the sounds of gunfire, however, they were close. "Go right." The monk said, appearing at my elbow. "Follow the passage. It will lead to another garden. That will take you to the other side of the mountain."

Sark nodded and slipped out, but I turned back to the monk. "Thank you." I said. "For everything."

He smiled slightly, and bowed his head. "Please stop the prophecy. Do not let evil triumph."

I nodded. "I won't." I promised him.

"Sydney!" Sark hissed.

With a final look at the man who had spent his entire life guarding the second half of Rambaldi's prophecy, I ran past Sark and down the corridor the monk had told me to take. With a frown, Sark followed, but thankfully didn't object. Keeping a wary eye out for gunfire and the people wielding those guns, we burst out into another garden about five minutes later.

This garden was like the first, full of now-extinct plants and I immediately headed towards the gate in the wall at the back. Sark was only a step behind me, when men in black burst out from the monastery behind us. "Stop!" one of them bellowed, before opening fire.

Sark and I dashed into the trees, still heading towards the gate. The men in black followed and I cursed. My breathing was already laboured because of the altitude and I had no idea how much longer I could keep this up. I drew my gun and returned fire as one of the men got too close for comfort.

"Sydney!" Sark hissed from the gate.

Nodding, I sprinted past him, just as he detonated some sort of explosive, causing the wall to crumble and block the way out with an enormous roar. Even running away from it as I was, the explosion still shoved me forwards and I felt hot air on my back. I staggered a little, falling forwards onto my hands. Sark grabbed one of my arms and jerked me to my feet, just as bullets slammed into the ground where I had been. It seemed as if someone had gained a high position to shoot from.

Still panting heavily, Sark and I ran until we had turned most of the corner, before I had to slow to a walk. I just couldn't run anymore! "Wh…where's the… chopper?" I asked Sark between breaths.

Just as I asked the question, I heard the dull beats of rotors in the air and the helicopter swung into view around one of the nearby peaks. I had to smile. I just wanted to get off this freezing mountain! The chopper landed and Sark and I scrambled aboard, just as more men with guns rounded the face and shot at us.

I darted to the side so they didn't have a clear shot, before returning fire as the chopper took off. I couldn't see anyone I recognised amongst them, so I assumed these were Covenant men. It didn't really matter though, I reflected with a grin, I had the prophecy and they didn't!

Sark looked over at me, panting from the exertions at high altitude but not appearing to be injured. "Are you alright?" he yelled over the noise.

"Yeah." I nodded. "You?"

"Fine." He replied.

I gave him a final small smile, before sinking down to rest a little while. Thankfully, now was not the time or the place for an in depth discussion on just what the prophecy meant, but something told me as soon as we were safe…man, that was _not_ a conversation I was looking forward to!

To Be Continued…


	6. Not So Different

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Six:

Galway

Growling in frustration and annoyance, I paced from the front hall of Sark's house to the sitting room just beyond and back again. Twenty hours had passed since Sark and my mission to the Himalayas and our retrieval of the second part of the prophecy – and we had yet to find a moment to discuss what had happened.

Sark's house, while a fortress on the outside, had proved to be as comfortable and luxurious as I had expected it to be. Soothing tones and comfortable, if elegant looking, furniture was accented with the odd expensive painting or antique, yet the whole place still managed to seem cosy and relaxed. It was also practical. I had counted several escape routes already, and I hadn't even been trying.

Liam had met Sark with a message from the Covenant when we got off the chopper and Sark had immediately left. I don't know where he was headed, but he had invited me to stay at his house while I waited for him to do whatever the Covenant wanted him to do. Liam had accompanied me back, seemingly unconcerned by the summons, but I was worried. What if it had something to do with the prophecy? One of the Covenant agents could have recognised Sark back at the monastery.

So that was how I found myself pacing near the front door, waiting for Sark's return. Liam had long since stopped trying to get me to sit down or eat something and seemed to find my pacing rather amusing instead of annoying. It seemed Sark picked employees with impressive patience. I don't really have a logical reason for why I was so worried. The practical part of my brain was telling me that even if someone had recognised Sark, the Covenant wouldn't have known about it when they were sending the message. But the fact remained that I didn't trust the Covenant one little bit, and every minute Sark was off doing something that I had no clue about, the more chance there was of something going wrong.

I shot a dark glare at the front door, before spinning sharply and pacing back towards the sitting room. I thumped myself down on the couch, keeping the door within view. Sark was a damned good spy. He escaped from CIA custody on a regular basis and always seemed to be ten steps ahead of everyone else. Hell, he'd even given me the slip more times that I was truly comfortable in admitting. He could handle the Covenant!

When the door finally did open about an hour later, I surged to my feet and opened my mouth to demand where the hell Sark had been, before I saw the expression on his face. I snapped my mouth shut and just stood there, not really wanting to find out what had put such an expression of disgust and pain on his face. He glanced at me, obviously having seen me waiting for him, before he dropped his bag and turned to hang up his coat. He was once again dressed in his black suit and I saw the soul-deep weariness in his gaze before he turned his back on me.

Whatever the Covenant had asked him to do had worn away some of the carefully constructed barriers around Sark's emotions, revealing a man who was bleeding on the inside. Almost immediately I felt something in my heart break for him. I really did understand what he was going through – years of being betrayed and being asked to do things I didn't want to do have made sure of that.

"Want to talk about it?" I asked him softly.

Sark turned back towards me and gave me a sardonic smile, and I noticed some of the barriers were already back in place, if not quite as strong as usual. "No." he said shortly.

As he brushed past me, heading for the stairs, I caught sight of the small flecks of blood on his jacket, almost completely hidden by the dark colour. Had he been any further away, I might have missed them. I snaked my hand out quickly and grabbed his forearm just tight enough to make him stop. "I understand better than you think." I told him.

Violent rage flashed into those cold blue eyes the second I put my hand on his arm, and I could see the effort it took to restrain it. That rage was another thing I understood. Sometimes, when you were forced to do things you really didn't want to do, the only way you could deal with it was to hate the people who had made you do it. Or hate those who tried to understand. I stood there, my hand still on his arm and calmly stared down the rage that boiled behind those eyes. It was probably about as smart as holding onto a snake by its tail, but something in me just couldn't turn away from him.

"Do you?" Sark asked me, his voice soft and cold. Dangerous.

"Try me." I replied.

He searched my eyes for a long moment, although I'm not sure what he was looking for. Then he nodded slightly and I let his arm go. He led the way up the stairs towards what I assumed was somewhere we could talk. I was surprised when he led me directly to his bedroom. I hesitated for a brief second on the threshold, not sure if I was truly ready to enter Sark's private space, but I had started this, so the least I could do was finish it.

Sark shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it into a corner, before his tie followed it. I waited just inside the doorway and watched as Sark yanked off his shirt, spraying a button or two across the room in his haste and revealing a firmly muscled back. The objective part of my mind, the spy part that never seemed to stop working, noticed the jagged scars that curled across his rib cage ran across his shoulder blades, as well as how thin Sark looked with all his bones prominent and angular. The female part of my mind, however, just purred in appreciation at the attractive sight. I ignored them both.

Sark crumpled his shirt into a ball and sent it flying after the jacket and tie, before sighing. I saw the tension in his shoulders as he paused for a moment, still facing away from me. Seeming to gather his courage again, Sark glanced back to look at me, his eyes still haunted. "Give me a second." He said.

He grabbed a pair of sweat pants and headed to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The shower turned on a second later, so I turned my focus to Sark's bedroom. Just like the rest of the house, it was comfortable and luxurious, but it struck me as impersonal all the same. A laptop sat on the desk in the corner, with a large bed against the wall and a large window that led out onto a balcony, and a breathtaking view of the cliffs.

Then I looked closer. There were a few personal belongings, small and unobtrusive, decorated around the room; a photo, a yearbook and what looked like a set of letters. The painting that hung on the wall directly across from the bed was rougher than the others around the rest of the house, even to my untrained eye. I wandered closer to it and noticed the signature in the bottom corner. Anna Lazarey. I wondered if it had been painted by Sark's mother.

I heard the bathroom door open again, and turned to see Sark wandering out. A flash of something crossed his face when he noticed I had been looking at the painting, but it was gone before I could tell what it was. I caught sight of a broad chest covered in twisting scars before Sark dragged a t-shirt over his head. He ran his fingers absently through his damp hair, before turning to me. "Are you sure you want to know, Sydney?" he asked softly.

I nodded. "Yes." I answered.

Sark sank down onto the end of his bed and looked away from me, instead gazing out the window at the rough coastline beyond. "Simply put: it was an assassination." He said, his words soft. It was as if, if he talked soft enough, I still might not hear what he had to say. "I saw no reason why the man should die, but I am nothing more than the Covenant's lapdog."

The derision in the last words was something I could relate to. I was used to being treated like a pawn; a mindless soldier destined to only follow orders, not give them. "So you killed him." I said, just as softly, moving to sit next to Sark.

"Yes." Sark answered bluntly, turning to face me again. "But contrary to popular belief, I am not completely cold blooded. I do not kill without a good reason. And certainly not on a whim."

I reached out and put my hand on Sark's shoulder, trying to give him what little comfort I could. "Sometimes you need to do evil things to survive." I told him.

"What would you know of it?" Sark demanded harshly, shrugging my hand of his shoulder and glaring at me with angry blue eyes.

I calmly gazed back at him, before beginning to speak. "I survived two years as a double agent, didn't I?" I said. "During that time, I killed people who were trying to help me take down SD-6. And as soul-destroying as that is, if they hadn't died, I would have."

Sark lost some of the anger in his eyes as I spoke, seeming to realise that when he had told me that the two of us were more similar than I thought, he was more right than he knew. "I've been betrayed by almost everyone I've ever cared about." I said. "And I'm not telling you this for sympathy. I'm telling you that I know what it's like to do things for someone, only to discover that you've really been helping your enemies."

"But you're not an assassin, Sydney." Sark whispered.

I shrugged. "Maybe not. But I have walked into missions knowing people will die, and sometimes I'm not sure that's any different."

Sark looked at me for a moment, his eyes as vulnerable as I had ever seen them. Then he smiled, and the mask slid back into place. Only now, I could see beyond it to the man beneath – or at least as much of the man beneath as Sark had allowed me to see. "I have something for you." Sark said, changing the subject somewhat abruptly as he got up.

I smiled softly to myself. It seemed things were back to as normal as they got. "I managed to access part of the Covenant database and found some interesting information." Sark said over his shoulder, as he retrieved a CD from his jacket pocket. "It has to do with Julia Thorne."

That caught my attention. I felt my face harden at the mention of my Covenant alias. A feeling of dread also wound its way through my gut. If Sark knew about my alias, then there was a distinct possibility that he knew, or would soon find out, just who killed his father.

"Julia Thorne?" I echoed cautiously.

"The alias you went by while you worked for the Covenant during your missing two years." Sark said, typing a few commands into his laptop. He shot me a look over his shoulder. "I thought you would have known about this?"

"I know a little." I answered truthfully. "Unfortunately, what I said about my missing two years still holds true. I don't remember."

Sark shrugged. "I've read over the list of the missions you went on for the Covenant." He said and turned back to the computer screen. "It's probably better this way. Although your missions did seem to be far less successful than I've come to expect from you."

The last was said with a smirk and I knew Sark knew that I had been working as a double agent. But the realisation was dulled by the terror that laced through me at his earlier words. _I've read over the list of missions you went on for the Covenant_. Did that mean Sark knew about the murder of his father? And just who was responsible?

Seeming to understand the direction my thoughts had taken, Sark turned and fixed me with a piercing look. "Yes, Sydney. I know you are responsible for my father's death. I don't care. He deserved to die, whatever the reason."

Shocked, I blinked at Sark for a long moment, unsure of what to say to his sudden declaration. He solved the problem, by continuing to talk, although the sardonic expression on his face told me he had seen my surprise. "I think we can use your alias to take down the Covenant. Some of your old contacts will be useful and the Covenant will just assume you're trying to figure out what happened to you."

I blinked again, trying to follow the conversation. "You have a plan?" I asked.

"Yes." Sark answered, turning the screen of the laptop so I could see it.

On the screen was a photo of me, complete with blond hair. I was walking down a crowded street talking on a cell. I studied my face, trying to gain some clue as to what I was doing or feeling as Sark continued to talk. "The Covenant is planning to steal something called the Watchglass, a reconstructed Rambaldi artefact." He explained. "Several senior members will be overseeing its retrieval, as it seems to be a key part of Rambaldi's plan. The Covenant has brought in a team of freelancers to steal it, which you can infiltrate."

"Wait a minute." I said, interruption Sark's explanation and plan. "What do you mean reconstructed?"

"My information leads to think that the artefact was dismantled sometime in the 18th century and the parts hidden. Only recently, the parts have been found and put back together again." Sark answered. "I don't, however, know what it does."

I shook my head slightly, not really needing to know the purpose of the Watchglass. The fact that the Covenant found it important was enough for me. "So I infiltrate this group and steal it?"

"Not exactly." Sark answered. "I need you to act as more of a distraction and this will give you an opportunity to do that."

"A distraction for what?" I asked. "And don't you think this is a bit risky?"

A small smirk played at the corner of Sark's mouth. "By now the Covenant knows that you no longer work for the CIA. As of yet, they have no idea of the connection between us and I'd like to keep it that way. The freelance group hired for the theft is headed by an old contact of Julia's." he told me. "By laying down the proper trail, we can convince the Covenant that you've gone rogue to find out what happened during your missing two years."

I nodded. That made sense. If I stayed off the radar too long, people would start to wonder what I was up to. "You still haven't told me why you a distraction."

"So I can find out who the head of the Covenant is." Sark answered simply.

I glanced sharply at him. "You mean you don't know?!"

The sardonic look crossed Sark's face again. "They don't trust me yet." He said. "I don't really know anyone beyond my handler."

At my questioning look, he added, "A man called Valentin San'ko. Incidentally, I killed his brother. He certainly wouldn't be disappointed if I suddenly died."

"I don't imagine he's the only one." I replied. "So how is my sudden appearance going to help you find out who's head of the Covenant?"

Sark's smirk grew bigger. "If they know where you are, they'll be more confident to come out of hiding."

"And pick up the Watchglass." I finished.

"Exactly." Sark smirked.

It was a good plan, I'd give him that. "So when do I leave?" I asked.

"In a day or two." Sark answered, almost absently. "Sydney, there's something I need to tell you." He added with a sigh. "Something I wasn't going to, but surprisingly enough I'm beginning to trust you."

The bittersweet smile on his face was something new. "You trust me?" I asked, surprised.

"It's not like me, I know." Sark said. "You've always been honest with me, Sydney. And in turn, I've always been honest with you. That leads to a certain kind of trust."

A moment of understanding passed between us. I knew without a doubt that while Sark was beginning to trust me, he would still kill me if I betrayed him in any way. Although, I was beginning to suspect it wouldn't be easy for him. Nor would it be easy for me to shoot him if he ever betrayed me, but I'd still do it. "So what did you want to tell me?" I asked.

"Back at the monastery, you said you were having…memories of being Isabella Rambaldi." Sark began and I nodded. "Well, the same thing appears to be happening to me. I'm having memories of being Isabella's bodyguard, Edward de L'Archier."

I was silent for a moment, before I gave Sark a wry smile. "At least I'm not going crazy, right?"

"Together we'll finish this, Sydney." Sark assured me. "I have no inclination to be anyone's pawn, regardless of whether it's Milo Rambaldi or the Covenant. And I know you don't either. We'll stop them."

"Or die trying?" I joked weakly.

Sark just flashed me an arrogant smirk. "Oh, it would take more than the Covenant to kill us, Sydney."

I had to smile back. He had a point. I'd survived worse than this. "True." I agreed.

At that moment, there was a soft knock at the door and Liam entered. "Sorry to interrupt," he said in his lilting accent. "But the Covenant just sent word. They request a meeting."

Sark nodded and sighed softly. "Send word that I'm on my way." He replied.

Liam nodded and slipped back out again. Some of the exhaustion and tension from before seemed to resettle itself on Sark's shoulders. He turned those piercing blue eyes in my direction. "All the information you need is in the file. I assume I can leave the rest up to you? I'm not sure when I'll be back."

I nodded. "I can handle it."

"Good." He said. "I'll contact you when I have the information."

Nodding again, I got to my feet and headed to the door. "Good luck." I said with a glance over my shoulder, before walking out.

"Thank you." I heard him whisper in reply.

* * *

Monte Carlo

Five days later, I found myself in Monaco, ready to put our plan into action. I hadn't heard from Sark yet, but I knew Liam would relay the details to him when he could. I surveyed the scene in front of me with a watchful eye and took a sip of champagne. I felt my lips curving into a smirk very reminiscent of Sark's at the appreciative glances of the men next to me. I was dressed to kill, after all.

I was dressed in a stunning black dress with a halter neck that fell to the floor. Diamonds glittered at my wrist and ears, and my hair was tied up in a sleek knot at the nape of my neck – even if it just so happened to be dyed blonde at the moment. It seemed fitting as I was standing in the Casino Monte Carlo, which just so happened to be the place the freelance team was meeting tonight.

But first things first. Julia Thorne had been gone for three months and my contact might need a little bit of extra persuasion to trust me again. So I needed something to bargain with. It just so happened that the reason the team was meeting in the Monte Carlo Casino was to steal a billion dollar diamond necklace that was being stored in the vault…which wasn't going to be as hard as it sounds. Most of the hard work would be done by someone else for once.

It turns out that one of the team members had a weakness for gambling and owed a certain criminal organisation a lot of money. The organisation had been willing to trade the necklace as payment of the debt. All I had to do was make sure the man didn't run off with the necklace, thereby forcing my contact to owe me a favour. Sark's plan was a good one, if not quite my style.

I grinned slightly when I spotted the time. It was time to go. I put my champagne down and headed down a nearby flight of stairs to the floor below. All around me the loud commotion of the casino floor hummed; cries of excitement and despair being uttered in a mix of languages. I slipped effortlessly through the crowd, having done this many times before. I slipped unnoticed through a doorway on the lower floor, heading down a corridor, through a door and then down another flight of stairs. This time they were concrete and led to the floor the vault was on. As I glided down the stairs, I pulled off the cunningly detachable skirt of the dress to reveal the black pants I wore underneath. After retrieving my gun from my purse and pulling on a pair of black leather gloves, I dumped that too. Everything I needed was in the small pouch at my hip.

Once I reached the bottom of the stair, I crept towards the shadows beside the locked door they had led to and waited. This was the only way out from the vault, since the team wouldn't be able to get back out the way they came in. I didn't have to wait long, as about a minute later the door opened a crack and a brown-haired man dressed in all black slipped out. He carried a small case and I knew this was the man I had been waiting for. He looked exactly like his photo.

"Going somewhere, Martin?" I asked, as I pressed my gun to the back of his neck.

The man froze. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"That's not important." I replied. "Where's the necklace?"

Martin said nothing, but I hadn't expected him to. Just like I wasn't surprised when he suddenly spun away from my gun and drew one of his own. I shot him before he could fire, knowing if given the opportunity, the man would have no problem killing me. I kicked the gun out of his hand, just to make sure, before I knelt and grabbed the case from where it had fallen. I stood again and opened it, smiling when I saw the necklace inside. It was beautiful. I removed it from its case and tossed the case aside.

At that moment, I heard the door behind me open before a muttered French curse sounded behind me. The sound of a gun being cocked echoed behind me, seconds before I felt the jab of a gun barrel in the middle of my back. "Drop your weapon." A French accented voice commanded, as I suppressed a shiver of fear.

The pressure of the gun barrel lessened as I dropped my gun and the man behind me circled around so he could see my face. When he did, there was another muttered curse, although this one was a lot darker than the first. "Julia? What in God's name are you doing here?"

"Hello, Jacques." I greeted the man in front of me; my contact. I smirked as I held up the necklace. "Missing something?"

To Be Continued…

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter was a bit short (and ended in a bit of a cliff hanger!), but I thought it would be better to wait for the next chapter to reveal Sark and Sydney's diabolical plan in action!

Cheeky.


	7. The Watchglass

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Seven:

Monte Carlo

"Hello, Jacques." I greeted the man in front of me; my contact. I smirked as I held up the necklace. "Missing something?"

Jacques swore loudly, before holstering his gun and motioning for the others behind me to do the same. "How did you get that?" he snapped.

Then he spotted Martin's dead body on the ground. "Never mind." He said. "What do you want, Julia?"

I gazed at the man in front of me, hoping for some feeling of recognition. He seemed familiar, but sadly, no memories suddenly burst into my head. His black hair was carefully combed and his green eyes glittered with anger and shrewdness. I knew from his file that he was not a man to be crossed; he and Julia had worked well together.

"I heard a rumour." I said. "Thought I could do a favour for a friend."

Jacques gave me a wry look. "You don't just do favours for a friend, Julia." He said.

I shrugged. "I thought you could put in a good word for me." I said. "I left the Covenant rather…abruptly."

Jacques nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "I heard. Why did you leave?"

"I had something personal to take care of." I answered coldly, hoping he would leave it at that.

Jacques raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask anymore questions. "As grateful as I am for your help, it will take more than returning the necklace to get me to speak on your behalf." He glanced up the stairs. "But perhaps now is not the best time to talk about that, no?"

He motioned to his men and they began to climb the stairs, while Jacques carefully returned the necklace to its case and I retrieved my gun. I followed him up the stairs and down the corridor towards the back of the casino. We sprinted for the back exit as alarms began to sound. A guard burst out from the door to our right, just a little in front of me and Jacques fired. The guard ducked back inside the room he had come out of, as Jacques swore in French.

"Let's move this along faster, gentlemen!" he hissed.

We all put on a burst of speed and sprinted down several corridors and a flight of stairs, before bursting out into an underground carpark. Once there, the group split and went separate ways. Jacques grabbed my sleeve to prevent my escape – not that I was going anywhere. "You're coming with me, _ma chére_." He said in a low voice.

Playing to my role of Julia, I just raised an eyebrow challengingly at him and stood my ground. Wasting no time, Jacques pulled me towards a waiting car. I jumped into the passenger seat of the unremarkable sedan as he jumped into the driver's seat and we roared off.

* * *

About an hour later, Jacques parked the car near the National Museum, an elaborate and beautiful old building that looked stunning in the moonlight. We had driven around for a long time, making sure we weren't followed and until Jacques felt comfortable about whatever he was going to say. I had just sat there, unobtrusively watching him and hoping I could pull this off. Everything depended on it.

"You've been gone for three months, Julia." Jacques said, getting straight to the point. "How do I know I can still trust you?"

"You don't." I replied, turning to face him. "In our lives, Jacques, you can't trust anyone. Not really. All you can trust is their motivation – and I tell you now, the only goal I have at the moment is to get back the Covenant's trust."

"Which is why you want me to vouch for you." Jacques said. "But where did you go? They trusted you until you left. In fact, they trusted you then more than they trust me now."

"My reasons are my own." I said coldly. I didn't need Jacques pushing the issue, because I had no answer. "Will you help me or not?"

Jacques looked at me, his expression considering. "I'm thinking about it. Thanks to you, I'm a man down. I think that means you owe me."

I snorted. "You would have been a man down whether I was there tonight or not." I said. "Thanks to me, you're not a necklace down as well."

Frowning, Jacques narrowed his eyes. "Be at the Cathedral at 8pm tomorrow. Help me with my next heist and I'll think about vouching for you. If you're not there, consider my offer withdrawn."

I nodded shortly and climbed out of the car. "I'll be there." I told him.

Jacques nodded once, before driving off. I let out a sigh as I stood in the warm evening and began the long walk back to my hotel. As I did, my cell rang. "Hello?" I asked cautiously when I answered it.

A familiar voice answered and I couldn't help but smile. "I take it everything is going well?" Sark's voice enquired.

"I'm meeting with Jacques tomorrow." I said.

"Good." He said. "I'll speak to you again in three days. Good luck."

"You too." I replied and hung up.

It wasn't much, but somehow my short conversation with Sark made me feel better. With a smile, I headed back to my hotel room to catch a little sleep. Hopefully, in three days Sark and I would know who the head of the Covenant was and we could take them down. And maybe then I'd find a few answers about my missing two years – and that damned prophecy would be destroyed.

* * *

The warm breeze and scent of the sea drifted in through my open window as I sat on the comfortable couch, my gun close at hand. Once I had gotten back, I had showered and changed and know lounged around in jeans and a sweater, my dyed-blonde hair in a ponytail. I was too restless to sleep, something that usually happened when I was in the middle of a mission, so I had decided to read a few more entires of Isabella's diary instead. I was hoping I could gain some more clues about the prophecy.

_May 3rd 1427,_

_My father is growing crazier every day. I am beginning to fear that I will not outlive his wrath next time. Edward is slowly proving himself to be a man that I can trust. At least, it is my fervent hope that I can, for if I can't, after today he will have all he needs to destroy me._

_I have trusted him with my secrets now. No longer do I have to bear the dark burden alone and I think Edward fears what my father is capable of as much as I do. It warms my heart to finally have a friend amongst the shadows that inhabit my life, but I am scared it will not last. Nothing good ever has. Whether it will be Edward who betrays me, or Edward who pays the price, I do not know. I only know that whatever we share, it will only be short. It is the way of life._

_Isabella O _

I shivered, once again surprised by how close the thoughts and feelings of Isabella Rambaldi mirrored my own. I knew a life that was full of betrayal and unseen enemies, just as she had. And I was trusting Sark with my secrets as she had trusted Edward. I hoped he had not betrayed her, but who knew? I could not question Edward's motives without questioning Sark's – and to finish my mission I just had to trust him. I took heart in the fact that if Sark had wanted to betray me, he could have done so before now. Sighing, I kept reading, wondering what would happen next.

_June 15th 1427,_

_It has been such a long time since I have had the opportunity to share my thoughts, even if I do not know if anyone will ever read them. I hope the woman destined to share my face does, in the end. I do not know why, but the thought she may someday read what I have suffered through gives me comfort. And hope._

_My father announced today that I am to marry his friend, Renato il Giovane, a rich nobleman, but I have no wish to be the second wife of such a cruel tormentor. His first wife is said to have died when she was thrown out of a window, but no one can prove it. I can only hope that the God in Heaven will protect me, because no one else will._

_Isabella O _

Again, I shivered as the words in the diary sent a chill down my spine. This time, however, it was more than the similarity of our lives that had caused it, but the ominous sound of her words. They were not the words of a woman who expected to live a long happy life. My heart ached for the poor innocent woman who had been so caught up in the nightmare her father had created, knowing that she had felt something similar to me and yet had had no one to trust. Unlike me, she didn't have a Jack Bristow to protect her at all costs. Or a Michael Vaughn to be her friend through all the shadows. Or even a Francie or a Will to come home to

It was sad, and it made me glad that even though my life had destroyed most of the people I cared about, I had known was it was like to feel normal, just for a little while. And it definitely made me glad that I had the power to change what was happening to me, even as it strengthened my determination to end Rambaldi's prophecy once and for all. I felt a connection to Isabella now and some part of me wanted to give her justice and finish what she had started all those years ago.

* * *

_I tossed and turned in a fitful sleep, feeling somewhat alien and alone. "Isabella?" a soft voice with a lilting accent called out, just as a hand reached out and gently touched my shoulder. "Isabella?"_

_Grimacing, I blinked into wakefulness, finding myself in a richly decorated room and lying on a large four-poster bed. The sheets and skirt of my nightdress were tangled about my legs and the corset made my chest feel constricted as I gasped for air. Turning towards the voice, I noticed it was Edward, his face so eerily like Sark's, part of my mind shivered. He was dressed in black clothes and carried several knives that I could see and probably many more I didn't._

_"Edward?" I asked blearily, confused as to what he was doing in my room._

_He put a hand gently over my mouth and shook his head, trying to get me to stay quiet. "He's coming…" he began, but at that moment the door to my rooms slammed open and someone stalked into the little sitting room just beyond my bedroom door._

_Edward sent me a helpless look, as if wanting to stay but knowing it would cause me even more pain if he was discovered here. Slipping backwards, he sank into the shadows and I lost sight of him. "Isabella!" a voice roared._

_Gripped with fear, I scrambled out of bed and threw on a robe, just as my bedroom door slammed open and my father was framed in the doorway. I gasped when I saw his face…the face belonged to Arvin Sloane!_

_"Come here, you spiteful bitch!" he roared, both angry and drunk._

_"Father… what is wrong?" I asked softly, the words leaving my mouth as if spoken by someone else. I knew this was because part of my mind remained Sydney, that this was Isabella's memory and I was just watching it through her eyes…but so much of me wanted to lash out, to climb through the window and escape…_

_"You think you can defy my will?!" Milo roared again, so far gone in his rage and drink that he verged on a sort of madness. "You will do as I say or you will not live to see the dawn!"_

_Instantly, I dropped to my knees, my head bowed. "Of course, father." I said meekly. "I obey your will."_

_Milo glared contemptuously at me, before reaching down and yanking me up by my hair. "Do not lie to me, girl!" he growled. "You defy me at every turn!"_

_Suddenly, his hand snapped out and hit me across the face so hard I saw stars. The taste of blood burst into my mouth and pain immediately began to throb over half my face. I dropped to the floor like a sack of flour when he let go of my hair, and immediately felt a sharp kick to the ribs. Pain blossomed like fire and I curled up, trying to make myself as small as possible. Milo kicked me again, and then, with a final glare, turned and swept back out of the room, his last words hanging ominously in the air._

_"Defy me once more and it will be the last thing you do."_

_I remained curled on the floor, fighting nausea and wept softly. I had forgotten Edward had remained in the shadows and had seen what my father had done, at least until I felt a gentle hand stroke my face and brush away the tears. I glanced up at him, ashamed at what he had witnessed and not wanting his pity. But there was no pity in his eyes, only a rage so primal that I winced away from it. His other hand was gripping the hilt of a knife so tightly, his knuckles were white. "Just say the word, Isabella." He said. "And that monster will die."_

_It was in that moment that I realised the anger, the rage in his eyes, was not directed at me, but at my father instead. And at that moment, something inside my unfurled. I had shared my secrets with this man of shadows, the man I had believed was yet another enemy I had to face and he had gifted me with something precious in return – his loyalty and his caring. He cared about me! Enough to go against one of the most powerful men in the city, the man who had employed him, just for a slip of a girl he barely knew. Tears began to fall again, but these ones were for joy, not pain._

_"Isabella?" he asked, anguish in his voice. "I am sorry…"_

_I reached up with a hand to cover his own, still gently caressing my face. "No one has ever done that before." I whispered, the awe still evident in my voice._

_"Done what?" Edward asked, confused._

_"Offered to stand up to my demon before." I gave him a watery smile. "You do not even know me, and yet if I asked you, you would go against him."_

_"I would kill him." There was something resolved and immovable about the way he said that, as if there was no possibility he would fail. "And I do know you. I see you, your courage, your strength, your will to live. It's breathtaking and humbling."_

_Tears slipt down my face again, as I stared up in wonder at a man that I was only beginning to see. "Now, will you let my have a look at your ribs?"_

_I nodded mutely as he gently picked me up and laid me down on the bed. I turned my face to the side, suddenly embarrassed as he peeled away the robe and the nightdress, revealing my corset and undergarments. I had never let a man do this before and my face flushed red. "Ah…" Edward said, confronted by my corset._

_I glanced back at him from under my lashes and found to my surprise, he was blushing just as red as I was. "I…I've never done this with a woman before…" he embarrassment was almost as breathtaking as his defence of me, and as innocent as I seemed, I understood he meant checking my bruises – I had no doubt this was not the first corset he had unlaced._

_With a shy smile, I turned slightly so he could access the laces at the back of my corset. "It's okay." I said. "I trust you."_

_"I don't know why you would." I heard him mutter, even as his nimble fingers started undoing the laces of my corset. "I'm not a nice man, Isabella."_

_"Perhaps not." I answered. "But you are the one I trust."_

_Soon the corset was loose and I slipped it off, grateful for once that my nursemaid insisted I wear something underneath it. It was only a thin scrap of material, but it was better that nothing to my innocent sensibilities. All the same, I noticed the heat in Edward's eyes as he gazed at me, his eyes turning from ice into molten blue pools, the colour of the stormy sea. His hands were gently, lifting back only as much of the cloth as was needed to see my ribs and he swore violently when he saw the dark colour already beginning to spread across the pale skin._

_The cursing made my blush, but the gentle caresses Edward drifted over my skin soon made me heat for a different reason. I had never let a man this close before, nor had I wanted to. Edward was different, and the difference went well beyond his defence of me or his tenderness. It was the man himself. His fingers were feather light as the bound my ribs with cloth, easing the pain slightly, yet I somehow felt naked beneath his gaze. I shivered._

_When he was done he looked at me and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Try to sleep. I will be back soon."_

_"Where are you going?" I asked, suddenly fearful he would leave._

_"To find some food. You do not eat enough." He replied, before slipping back into the shadows as my eyes drifted closed._

* * *

I surged upright in bed, my breath pounding, halfway between terrified and aroused. I wasn't sure whether I should be angry or freaked out that it had been Isabella's memory and Sark's face that had put me in such a state. I ran a hand over my face and glanced at the clock, deciding denial was probably the best way to deal with it just now.

Not even considering the revelation that Arvin Sloane was Milo Rambaldi – just as much as I was Isabella.

I hoped like hell that it wasn't the cause of all those comments about how I was the daughter he never had. The possibility made me shiver with pure terror. That a man so twisted and evil could have wormed his way into my life at such a young age and stayed there – up until my discovery of what SD-6 really did. It was strange to think that if I hadn't found out what Sloane was really like, at such a cost, I might have been so twisted into the mess that is Rambaldi, it might have already been too late for me.

Grimacing at the bright morning sunshine that seemed the complete opposite of my current mood, I wondered what I was going to do for the rest of the day. I didn't have to meet Jacques until 8pm, so there were a good few hours to kill yet. Sighing, I knew my mind would never settle after my disturbing dream, so I got up.

After a long hot shower and a late breakfast, I stood next to my window, slightly hidden by the curtains and stared out at the bustle beneath me. Monte Carlo was gorgeous and if it had been any other mission, I might have been tempted to go outside and explore the vibrant city. But somehow I felt too vulnerable just now. I'm not quite sure what the reason was, although I suspected it was probably the verification that Sloane was evil and behind my two missing years. Still, the tenderness Edward had displayed towards Isabella had disturbed me as well.

I sat brooding and thinking in the hotel room until the sun began to set, but came up with no more answers than I had had in the beginning. The phone ran next to me and I picked it up numbly, without even thinking.

"Bad dream?" a familiar voice smirked.

How it was that he always managed to know just when I was hitting rock bottom emotionally, I doubt I will ever know. But he was always there – needling me and making me so mad I wanted to hit him. That was probably the idea. "What makes you ask that?" I said.

"Because I did." He said bluntly and I suddenly sat up straight on the couch.

"You had a dream?" I asked.

Sark paused slightly on the other end, as if trying to put everything into words. "It was a memory of Edward's. I saw the face of Milo Rambaldi…and it was Arvin Sloane's."

I knew without a doubt at his words that he had the same dream I had. Just the words made me shiver. "I had the same one." I replied. "It doesn't really change anything, though."

"It doesn't?" Sark echoed.

I shrugged, even though he couldn't see it. "I was pretty certain Sloane was behind my disappearance anyway." I answered.

Sark chuckled softly at the certainty in his tone. "I must admit, I know what Sloane is capable of, but I wasn't entirely convinced he was behind your disappearance. We still don't know who the leader of the Covenant is."

My mind shied away from the implications of his sentence – both his involvement with Sloane in the past, which I would probably have to deal with later, and the fact that Sloane might not be the only enemy I faced just now.

I sighed. "Life is never easy, is it?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

Sark chuckled again. "No. If it was, I'd find it terribly boring." He answered.

I was still smiling when he hung up. Yet another thing in my life that I would have to square with soon was Sark's ability to make me smile when I felt like crying. Strange, Vaughn had never done that. He'd been a comfort, for sure, but never made me smile. I felt a small ache when I thought of Vaughn, because it reminded me of yet another betrayal by the ones I loved. Determination filled me at the thought, giving me the strength to see me through this mission and make sure that no one would use me again.

I took care when I dressed for the meeting with Jacques. I knew there was a good chance that I would go straight from the meeting to wherever the heist was taking place. So, black was the colour of choice. I dressed in black jeans and a sweater, with a leather jacket over the top. I left my hair loose and added black eyeliner, like I had on the long ago day I had met Sark in Galway.

As ready as I would ever be, I packed up my hotel room and left, heading towards the Cathedral through the cool night. I slipped into the Cathedral and headed towards the altar, which was covered in candles. As I did so, I spotted Jacques waiting on one of the pews.

"Julia." He greeted levelly. "Ready to go?"

I nodded. "That's why I'm here."

Jacques smiled slightly, before we headed back out of the Cathedral and off to do our dishonest work.

* * *

Marseilles

We arrived in Marseilles, France, after a three hour drive. It had been a little uncomfortable, not because I didn't like travelling (since I never got to see much of the country-side on missions, it was actually quite fun), but because Jacques' men kept giving me wary, if not outright hostile looks. I returned them all with a level stare, but it was a relief to get out the van all the same.

The plan was actually quite simple. The Watchglass was undergoing a restoration process, so the security on it was less than usual. It was being stored in the vault of a reasonably large industrial facility. Jacques, characteristically, had planned everything very well. He knew the rotations of the guard and the password required to bypass the security system, so getting in was quite easy, even for so many of us. But as experience had taught me, it's getting out where the skill comes in.

One of Jacques men broke off to head to the control room to keep the cameras busy, while the rest of us headed down to the vault. Jacques had given me a silenced automatic on the way in, carefully unmarked and untraceable, and I held it in my gloved hands. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to use it. "Go." Jacques snapped when we got to the vault, motioning towards the door to the room with his gun.

The men snapped instantly into action. Surging through the door, they shot the two men inside the room, while Jacques and I followed. He shot me a curious glance. "Not having fun, Julia?" he asked.

I shrugged, trying to look bored. "You call this fun?" I replied.

Jacques shrugged. "You used to think so."

I might not remember the last two years of my life, but I _knew_ that wasn't true. "No, Jacques." I replied with a smirk. "Fun involves a lot more challenge than this."

Jacques let out a short bark of laughter. "You know." He said. "I think I missed you."

As we had been talking, the men had started cracking the safe, so I turned back to face the door. My role in this heist was a lot simpler than I was used to – I was just another hired gun. In other words, if everything went to shit, I would come in handy, but until then there was really nothing for me to do.

Jacques and his men were done in minutes. I have to admit, there skill was quite impressive, but then I doubted the Covenant would employ anyone but the best when it came to retrieving one of there beloved Rambaldi artefacts. It was a surreal experience, I decided when we walked out the building about ten minutes after we had entered it, to actually have something go according to plan. I wasn't used to it, and it made me nervous. I kept expecting an alarm to sound or someone to yell out a discovery. But nothing happened.

"Thankfully, we didn't need your expertise, no?" Jacques asked, as he turned to grin at me from the front seat of the van as we all climbed in.

I shrugged. "Boring, though." I answered as we roared off into the night, playing to the role of Julia.

We headed back to one of Jacques' many safe-houses, this one on the outskirts of the city, to await the Covenant's representative…which I knew would be Sark. I would have to make sure I didn't give away the fact that I already knew him, as Julia Thorne had never met Mr. Sark. And I don't think either of us was quite willing to let onto the fact that we were working with each other just yet.

The house was elegant, but simple. There were at least four bedrooms, several bathrooms and a large pool out the back. Restless, both due to the fact that I knew I was hours away from learning who was responsible for my disappearance and because I was still edgy from the heist, I paced in one of the smaller sitting rooms, away from prying eyes. I would have to calm down soon and go back out to mingle with the others, but right now, I just wanted it _over_.

With a deep breath, I attempted to calm my nerves yet again. I'd shrugged out of my leather jacket and now just wore the jeans and the light sweater. Even so, I felt like I was sweating. It was a sign of nerves, I knew, but I was too wound up to fix it. Finally, I steeled myself and headed back to the kitchen, where the others were having an impromptu dinner.

I arrived just in time, because at that moment, Jacques entered through the other door, Sark in tow. They were discussing something, but stopped when the walked through the door and saw me. "Ah, Julia." Jacques greeted warmly. "I don't believe you've met the Covenant's new operative. Mr. Sark."

I hid a smile and nodded towards Sark. "Mr. Sark." I greeted levelly.

"Miss Thorne." Sark greeted back, his face impassive, but there was a slight twinkle in his eye that I don't think anyone noticed but me. Mr. Sark was clearly amused. "It's a pleasure to meet you finally."

Jacques glanced at Sark. "Pierre, bring the item!" he called out to one of his men.

Pierre brought over a case that I knew contained the Watchglass, as Sark hefted a briefcase in return – I assumed it was full of money. But before the transaction could be completed, Sark's cell rang. A look of annoyance crossed his face quickly, but it was gone just as fast. "Excuse me a moment." He said.

Sark drifted away until he was just out of earshot, and Jacques shot me a glance. I shrugged. I didn't know what was going on. The conversation between Sark and the caller was short and I could see the sudden tension in Sark. He didn't get angry or raise his voice, but I knew whatever had just happened was bad. He snapped the phone shut, before turning and giving me a grave look.

Uh oh. My gut twisted. Things were about to go to shit, I could feel it.

Sark's blue eyes burned into mine. There seemed to be a dark anger in them, along with a sense of vibrant urgency. Even though I knew something was about to happen, his words still came as a shock to me. As did the abrupt way he whipped out his gun and pointed it straight at Jacques.

"It's time to go, Sydney." He said. "Take the Watchglass."

Woah. This hadn't been in the plan!

I felt my hand stray towards the gun in the waistband of my jeans and I kept a watchful eye on Pierre and the others. Walking over to Jacques, I reached out to take the case containing the Watchglass from him. It was strange to find him staring at me with a kind of betrayal in his eyes. "Sydney?" he echoed.

Nodding, I gave him a look of apology, although I'm not entirely sure why. "My name isn't Julia. Or at least it wasn't until the Covenant tried to brainwash me."

"So, you don't want to rejoin the Covenant." Jacques guessed. "You want to destroy them."

I didn't answer, but I didn't think I had to. Before anything more could be said, Pierre drew a gun and everyone began firing at each other. Sark managed to shoot Jacques in the shoulder before he was forced to dive for cover, which was just as well, because it threw off his aim at me. The bullet whizzed past my arm as I threw myself behind the kitchen counter and all feelings of goodwill or apology I had towards Jacques vanished. I don't like people shooting at me!

My gun was in my hand before I consciously thought about it, and I let off a few shots before a body sank down beside me. I whirled, heart pounding, but it was only Sark. He flashed me his characteristic smirk, before firing a few shots of his own, bullets from Jacques and his gang thumping into the other side of the counter all the while. "I do believe this is the first time your gun isn't actually pointed at me, Sydney." He said.

I glared at him in return. "Keep that up and you might get it in your direction!" I muttered.

He chuckled softly, before we both returned fire again. We needed to get out of here. The men on the other side were rapidly attempting to ring our position and it was only a matter of time before one of them got a better shot. Or we ran out of bullets. Whichever came first.

"You know, I prefer you as a brunette." Sark commented, completely startling me.

"I don't think this is the best time to discuss hair colour preference, Sark." I replied.

"Oh, Sydney. Most of our best conversations have taken place when guns were involved." He smirked.

I had to admit he had a point and smiled slightly in response, even as I turned away to shoot Jacques, who despite being shot in the shoulder was trying damn hard to kill me. Man, I hated it when people did that! Maybe I was in the wrong profession.

"Any ideas?" I snapped at Sark.

"I always have ideas." There was that damned smirk again. "But if you're referring to a way out, the door behind us seems like a good option."

I knew we were both professional and seasoned operatives and this was not our first shootout – and I knew that Sark was fond of bantering with me when we had our guns trained on each other – but I'd never realised how annoying his calm could be when I was stressing out. It was reassuring too (if Sark ever panicked, it was time to kiss your ass goodbye), but did he have to smirk too?

"Did you think that one up all by yourself?" I snapped.

Sark shot me an irritated glare. Oh, so Mister Icy-calm-when-being-shot-at wasn't as calm as he wanted to make out. Somehow, the reminder that Sark was actually human, despite all evidence to the contrary, reassured me more than the calm had. With a shared nod, I jumped up and sprinted out the door behind us as Sark distracted them with a couple of well placed shots. I returned the favour from the doorway as he joined me.

"This way." He said, already disappearing down a corridor.

I let out a sigh of exacerbation, but followed anyway. How was it that Sark had been in the house about two minutes and still had an escape route mapped out?

"So how come the plans changed?" I asked softly as we crept through the house towards the back…and hopefully a waiting car.

"The Covenant were making plans to kidnap you again. I didn't find out exactly why, but it has something to do with the Watchglass. It leads to something and the Covenant want it."

Sark's explanation chilled me to the bone. The Covenant wanted to kidnap me again? The idea of loosing more of my life to those bastard was enough to send me into a small fit of panic…which was closely followed by a surge of rage. How dare they!

"Guess we just have to find it first." I replied, my determination to beat them back in place.

We continued through the darkened house as quickly as I could, Sark somehow leading us to the side of the house and a sleek black car that could belong to no one but him. I grinned at the sight. Then my smile fell when I heard the dull throbbing of a helicopter…moving away from the house! Fear ran down my spine. The Covenant were already here!

I knew Sark heard it too because he was as tense as I was. Suddenly armed men dressed in black surged out of the bushes, taking us completely by surprise. Shit, they were close! I sprinted towards the car, hoping to get inside it, but almost immediately, I felt the sting of something in my shoulder and looked down in horror. A dart was sticking out of my jumper and I felt the tranquilizer being to work almost immediately.

Sagging to my knees, I stumbled forward, shooting Sark a panicked look before everything went black.

* * *

Blearily, I came awake again and found myself strapped to an uncomfortable metal chair, my hands handcuffed awkwardly behind me. My shoulders burned the second I moved, letting me know that I had been here for hours. I wondered just how many hours had passed since I'd got snatched in Marseilles. I ignored the fear that slid down my spine at the thought. This time I didn't have the CIA searching for me…I only had Sark. If he thought I was worth the risk – but then, he was probably better than the CIA anyway.

I had survived two years against the Covenant. So I would survive this too, no matter what happened. Taking a quick glance around the room as more details came back to me, I realised that the room was bare and windowless, almost like a police interrogation room, except I couldn't see any one-way glass. I was dressed in my jeans, although my boots had been removed, leaving me in bare feet (which were also handcuffed to the chair) and I only had my thin black tank on as well. The room was cold, but not as cold as some I had been in. My hair hung in knots around my face, disconcertingly blonde, as if the tie had come loose during the trip.

After spending a useless five minutes trying to work out a way out, I gave up for the moment. The handcuffs on my wrists would be easy enough to get rid of, and if I could get the chair off the floor, on which it appeared to be bloody bolted, the feet should be okay too. But that would leave me with no weapon beside the chair and no way out.

I was interrupted from further deliberation by the sound of a door opening behind me. I took stock of where I thought it was, filing the information away for later use and waited for whoever it was to come around and face me.

When he did I almost wanted to fake unconsciousness again.

"Hello, Sydney." Arvin Sloane, international slimeball and the guy I most wanted to shoot, said, holding up a needle full of some greenish liquid. "You and I have something to complete."

"I'm never going to do anything with you that doesn't involve me painfully killing you!" I growled loudly, straining against my bonds as he crept closer with the needle.

Sadly, it was no use. My neck burned when he jabbed the needle in and almost immediately fiery pain broke out all over my body. A small whimper escaped my throat at the intense pain, despite my best attempts not to let that happen, and once again, everything faded to black.

To Be Continued…

* * *

Author's Note: I hope this chapter was okay. I had a bit of trouble with it. Any comments would be appreciated.

Cheeky.


	8. Rescuing Sydney

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Eight:

Sloane's Hideout

Groaning, I came awake for a second time, my body still throbbing painfully from whatever drug Sloane had given me. "Sydney?" came a very soft, yet very familiar voice. "Sydney?"

I groaned again, this time letting my eyes flicker open. Almost immediately I shut them again, the light far too bright. "Sydney?" the voice came again, this time more insistent. "Open your eyes, Sydney."

"No." I ground out, my throat raw and painful. "Too bright."

Suddenly the excruciating pressure on my shoulders lessened and I slumped forward. Through the haze around my mind, I realised someone had undone the handcuffs keeping my hands behind my back. Strong arms caught me as I sagged out of the chair, catching me before I hit the ground. "She's in worse shape than I thought. We need to leave." The voice said again, obviously speaking to someone else this time.

"There are more guards on the way." A different voice answered.

There was something strange about those voices that went beyond coming from different men. I frowned in concentration for a moment before I worked it out. The accent. That was what was so different about the voices. One had an English accent, while the other seemed to be Irish. Then I frowned again. Who did I know that was English?

The English voice swore. "Sydney, can you stand up?"

"How do you know who I am?" I asked the voice, still stubbornly refusing to open my eyes to the painful light.

The voice refused to answer, instead carefully helping me to my feet. Instantly, pain seared through my legs and I gasped. Everything rebelled against the pain and I had to jerk quickly to the side before I threw up. There was a sigh from whoever was holding me up. "Well, that answers that question. I'll have to carry her."

The other voice didn't reply, but in that moment I was swept upwards and nestled against a firm chest so fast that I felt dizzy. Groaning, I buried my face against the chest and tried to calm the nausea in my stomach and the intense pain in my shoulders that seemed to be spreading throughout my body. Nothing else seemed to matter at that moment. Part of my brain was screaming at me to recognise who was carrying me off, because it could end badly, but some other part of me instinctively trusted whoever it was. I'd worry about the rest later.

A few times on my bumpy ride, I felt the arms around me shift, followed by the sounds of gunfire, but my foggy brain couldn't hang onto the thoughts for very long. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and slipped back into unconsciousness with a sigh of relief.

* * *

Galway

I surged awake, quite literally shaking with fear. My heart was pounding so loud and fast I was sure it was about to leap right out of my chest. My breathing came in ragged pants and sweat covered my skin. My body still ached and throbbed, but compared to the pain I had endured after Sloane had injected me with that substance, it was nothing.

"Sydney?" came a rough voice from next to me. "Are you alright?"

I turned to see a rather rumpled looking Sark sitting in a chair next to my large bed. He wore worn jeans and a baggy black jumper, but it was undeniably him. Relief surged through me before I could stop it, followed by gratitude as my memories began to return and I finally recognised the voices that had rescued me from Sloane. Sark and Liam. I had to say I was impressed – they had rescued me from Sloane apparently by themselves and few people could manage that feat.

I smiled at him. "I think I owe you a big thank you." I said.

Sark smirked, at once looking more like himself and I noticed a sense of relief replaced the look of concern in his eyes as he realised I was okay. "Of course you do." He said. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

I frowned and shook my head, taking stock of my injuries. My body was still throbbing slightly with the after-effects of intense pain, but the nausea was gone and I only had a slight headache. "Not really." I replied. "Most of it's pretty hazy. How long was I there?"

"About five days before Liam and I could rescue you." Sark answered.

"How long have I been out?"

"Four days." Came Sark's reply. "You were in pretty bad shape."

I shivered and swore under my breath. Yet another thing I owed Sloane for. "He injected me with something." I told Sark, trying to suppress the feeling of panic that came with the memory. "Some green liquid. Said we had something to complete."

This time is was Sark who swore. "Drugs?" he asked. "Or something else?"

"I don't know." I replied. "But my gut tells me it had something to do with Rambaldi."

Sark swore again, this time getting out of his chair to pace in front of my bed. "We're going to have to hurry things up." He said. "Go after the map sooner."

"The map?" I echoed.

Sark gave me a faint smile, before turning to face me. "I forgot that I never got a chance to tell you." He said. "The Watchglass is the way to read a map that had a particular importance to Rambaldi."

I nodded at the information. "Any ideas where the map leads?"

Sark shook his head. "No one does. There have been many theories, but no one knows for sure."

I sighed. "Sloane's going to know we're going after it." I pointed out. "If he hasn't got it already, we're going to have a hell of a fight on our hands."

Smirking, Sark looked at me. "He doesn't know where it is." He said. "The Watchglass is supposed to provide the exact coordinates."

"So he has no idea where the map is?" I asked, hope blossoming in my chest.

Sark shook his head slightly. "He knows it's somewhere in the Gobi Desert." He explained. "Just not exactly where."

"Well, it could be worse." I reflected.

Sark smiled, amused. Then he blinked, as if remembering something, and walked to one of the tables near the door and picked up a thick brown envelope. "Oh, this came for you the other day." He said, passing it to me.

His curiosity was apparent, as he recognised my handwriting on the front. I hid a smile, grateful that Sark had respected my privacy enough not to open it and tore the envelope open. Isabella's diary slid out.

Sark watched the old, leather-bound book as I absently stroked it, making sure it was okay. "What is it?" he asked, coming to sit down on the edge of the bed.

"Isabella Rambaldi's diary." I told him.

"Isabella Rambaldi's diary?" he echoed. "How did you get that?"

I glanced at him, before passing him the diary so he could look at it. "I had a visit from a man named Gianni Bennetti and he gave it to me."

"Gianni Bennetti?" Sark said with a sharp look at me, pausing as he flipped through the diary.

I nodded mutely. Sark swore softly, but I think it was more because a whole lot of things were falling into place rather than out of anger. "Gianni Bennetti is the direct descendant of Milo Rambaldi and up until now has seemed quite content to watch the power struggles between the various followers of Rambaldi and not in gaining power for himself. Although, now I wonder…"

"…if he wasn't just waiting for the right moment to destroy Rambaldi's endgame?" I finished for him – Sark had confirmed most of what my father had told me, and I had been wondering the same thing myself.

Sark nodded. "Or give someone who could destroy Rambaldi the help they needed."

He hadn't needed to say that someone was me, although I was beginning to realise that Sark was going to play just as large a role in destroying Rambaldi and his prophecy as I was.

"I'll let you get some sleep." Sark said, the thoughtful look still in his eyes.

I smiled at him. "Thanks." Then a thought struck me as I watched Sark walk to the door. "Sark? Did you ever find out who the head of the Covenant was?"

Sark looked back and the expression in his blue eyes told me I probably wasn't going to like the answer. "Arvin Sloane and Elena Derevko." He said softly.

My aunt? Arvin Sloane had come as no surprise, as I already knew in my gut he was responsible for my missing two years, but my aunt? I had never really known either of them, but I had hoped somewhere deep inside that they hadn't gotten involved in this world like my mother had. "Not Irina?" I asked.

Sark shook his head. "No. Irina has her own organisation of sorts. And she doesn't like to share power."

No, I never imagined she would. I was still deep in thought when Sark shut the door behind him with a soft click.

* * *

I woke up again around midnight, feeling a whole lot better – and with it came a restless energy to do _something_, so I knew there was no going back to sleep. Instead, I reached for Isabella's diary, wondering with there were any clues in there about the Watchglass or the map, like there had been about the prophecy.

I was still reading at dawn, completely captivated by what Isabella was feeling.

_June 20th 1427,_

_Cruel shadows have begun to stalk me and darkness is falling across my life. Renato and his twisted friends have claimed possession of me, even though our marriage is yet months away. My father is holding out for something before completing the promise to him and once again I am just a pawn to be exploited and used._

_The one flicker of light in my life is Edward. Ever since that night when he helped care for me after one of my father's beatings, we have met in secret and just talked or watched the stars together. With him I can almost feel normal. He has also become my secret defiance against my father, the one thing in my life that _I_ want, not him. Beatings come often now and my father has descended deeper into madness. I hear rumours that there are many who are plotting to kill him, but I don't know if it is even possible to kill such evil. I hope it is, for then I could be free._

_Isabella O _

_June 27th 1427,_

_I have a dark secret to confess, particularly to you, the woman who shares my face. I have fallen in love with Edward. He shows such a cold face to the world, but I have long since realised that it is but a mask built for survival against shadows like my own. My heart beats faster every time he comes close to me, and I feel so beautiful and protected in his arms. My advice to you, woman who shares my face, seek out the man who shares his and trust him. He may seem cold and cruel on the surface, but I guarantee that the man underneath is well worth it._

_I think my father's cruelty towards me is even harder on him than on me. I know he wishes to kill him so they we may both be free, but my father still has powerful friends in this city and we would pay terribly for this. He is so tender and gentle with me, caring for me after every beating and bringing me chocolates to ease the pain. Without him, I believe I would have given up long ago, but somehow he gives me the will to keep fighting. For him, I would do anything and I know he would do the same for me._

_Isabella O _

_July 12th 1427,_

_Today is my birthday and I cannot tell you how wonderful it was. Edward managed to sneak me out my father's house and we fled far into the countryside. It felt like magic. We had a picnic, filled with rich and delightful foods and Edward even cooked me some of the dishes he remembered from his childhood. We lazed in the sun for hours and talked and I think it was the most beautiful day of my entire life._

_Edward gave me the most wonderful present. He wanted to cover me in diamonds, he said, but what he gave me was infinitely more precious to me – his love. Today, Edward told me that he loves me. I feel as if I could do anything I wanted…even fly! I know such a magical feeling cannot last, but I intend to treasure it for as long as I can. He told me that no one can ever take away his love for me, not even my father. And that is something that will give me strength in this life, no matter what my shadows will do._

_Edward, I love you with all my heart. Forever and always._

_Isabella O _

This time, the memory came to me without the pretence of sleep. I wasn't sure if it had something to do with whatever Sloane had injected me with or just my stronger connection to Isabella, but one minute I was sitting in bed reading Isabella's diary and the next, I was reliving one of her memories.

* * *

_Dawn coloured the sky with fire, and I couldn't help but smile dreamily as the first rays of the sun warmed my skin. Edward and I had returned only a few hours ago from the best day of my life. My father was on one of his drinking binges and hadn't even noticed we had gone, thankfully. Not that I would have cared if he had – nothing could dim my joy of that day._

_My skin was covered in tingles and I felt as if I could almost fly off into the sky at any moment. I had yet to sleep, too scared that this might just be a dream._

_"Good morning, beautiful." A familiar voice said, sending delightful shivers down my spine._

_I turned and smiled wider as I saw Edward standing behind me on the balcony. He walked closer, his hand moving up to brush a strand of hair off my face. I wore nothing but my thin robe and nightdress, my hair loose and tumbling down my back, but as he gazed at me, I felt as if I was wearing the most beautiful ball gown in all the world._

_"Good morning." I replied back._

_"I cannot sleep." Edward confessed softly, dipping his head so his forehead rested against mine and his eyes flickered closed. "I am scared that I will find that this is just a dream and I think my heart will break if it is."_

_My heart skipped a beat at his soft words, then swelled with love. "I am scared of the same." I told him, just as softly. "I love you so much, Edward."_

_"And I love you too, Isabella." Edward confessed._

_I smiled, a little tearfully, at that. No one had ever loved me in my life, with the exception of my mother. She had died in childbirth and I had never known her. I turned so that I could once again watch the sunrise and felt Edward's arms come up and cradle me against his strong chest. We stayed that way for a long moment, content to just be near each other._

_"I have something for you." Edward said suddenly. "It isn't much, but…"_

_As he trailed off, I turned, curious as to what it was. Edward reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple pendant, the lone diamond catching the sun's rays and sparkling like fire. Tears gathered in my eyes. "It is beautiful." I said._

_"I wish it could be bigger." Edward said, almost apologetically. "You deserve to be showered in diamonds, Isabella."_

_"It does not need to be bigger, Edward. It is from you and just for that, I will treasure it for eternity."_

_With exquisite care, Edward reached up and gently lifted my hair away from my neck to he could fasten the pendant around my neck. I gazed in awe as the diamond settled on my chest, not quite believing it was real. "Oh, thank you Edward!" I cried, throwing my arms around him and hugging him tight._

_His arms came up to hug me back, squashing me against his strong chest and I leant my head on his shoulder, love glowing in my heart. Edward gently stroked my hair, running his hands lovingly through it. "I would do anything you ask, Isabella." He whispered. "I want you to know that. Just say the word and we can run away, far away."_

_I looked up, so much love bursting from my heart. "Oh, Edward." I said._

_He smiled softly, before leaning down and touching his lips to mine. Tingles set fire to my skin, as his hands drifted from my arms to cup my face and then to tangle in my hair, dragging me closer to him. Edward was like a drug; once his lips touched mine, I couldn't get enough._

_Dragging me closer against him, Edward became more insistent, his tongue moving to tangle with mine. It was like he was drinking me in, but couldn't get enough. My blood heated and suddenly my corset seemed far too tight._

_Suddenly, Edward pulled back. He looked a little ashamed, his eyes still a stormy, deep blue. "I'm sorry, Isabella." He said._

_I smiled, my body still thrumming from his touch and my mind hazy with pleasure. "Don't be." I said, reaching out and taking his hand._

_Bringing it up, I placed his hand over my heart, feeling the skin beneath his fingers heat immediately at his touch. "Edward, you are my heart and I love you." I told him as I gazed into those beautiful eyes that I loved so much. "Forever and always. Never be sorry about that."_

_"I'm not sorry I love you Isabella." Edward replied. "But I do not wish to harm you."_

_"You won't." I replied._

_With a shy smile, I tugged at his hand and led him slowly inside. "Belle…" he began softly, but I silenced him with a gentle finger against his lips and shook my head._

_I knew what I wanted and tonight it was Edward. I had never loved a man like I loved him and never would. "This is what I want." I told him._

_Suddenly, I was back in his arms and he was kissing me with addicting passion, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they went. I kissed him back with just as much wild abandon, loving everything he made me feel. Clothing disappeared and then I finally knew what heaven felt like._

* * *

I sighed as the memory ended, tears in my eyes. My body still tingled from the memory of the kiss and I felt such a surge of longing to feel his hands on me for one more moment…

Shaking my head, I tried to reorientate myself back in my bedroom at Sark's house. I glanced at the clock and saw it was about 7am now, so I got up and decided to try walking downstairs to see what was for breakfast. I noticed as I climbed out of bed, that I was wearing black silk pyjamas and felt a small pang of embarrassment at having been undressed by Sark. A quick check, however, proved that I still wore the same underwear, so he wouldn't have seen much more than he already had at one point or another.

Still weak, it took me longer than I liked to get downstairs. I paused at the doorway to the dining room, trying to gain a little strength and composure before I walked in, before I heard the low voices conversing inside.

"You don't look good, Julian." Liam's lilting voice was saying.

"I'm fine, Liam." Sark replied.

"You're as pale as a sheet." Liam countered. "You didn't tear your stiches, did you?"

"No, I didn't tear my stiches." Sark sounded grumpy.

I frowned in concern. It sounded like Sark had been injured rescuing me. I hoped he hadn't been shot. There was the sound of someone moving around the dining room and the clink of a mug hitting the table. "How's Sydney?" Liam asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

"I'm not sure." Sark answered. "She seemed better yesterday. I'll take her some breakfast in a minute; see if she feels like eating something."

"No need." I said, carefully walking into the dining room.

Both men got to their feet, but I waved them back down, determined to do this myself. Surreptitiously, I kept an eye on Sark, trying to see if he really was pale, or in pain. The smells of the food and coffee soon made my stomach rumble hungrily and I wondered how long it had been since I last ate.

Hungrily, I filled my plate with fruit and muffins while Sark chuckled with amusement. He got up to help me sit down, as I was still a little shaky. He even poured me a mug of coffee without me having to ask. I grinned up at him. "Thank you."

"I'm just glad to see you're feeling better." Sark said.

"Aye." Liam agreed. "Me too."

"Well, I'm glad to be feeling better too." I said, in between mouthfuls.

The rest of the meal past in relative silence, each of us focusing on our food, although I still kept an eye on Sark. It was unbelievable just how hungry I was, and it took two more plates before I felt full enough to stop eating. Liam was looking at me with a half-amused, half-puzzled look on his face. "Where do you put it all?" he asked. "Surely, your stomach ain't that big!"

I shrugged, grinning back. "Oh, I don't know." I said. "It probably is."

Liam got up then to clear away the dishes and I moved to help, but he shook his head. "It's my turn." He said.

"Your turn?" I echoed, a little surprised that international spies still had chore rosters.

Sark smiled. "Yes, Sydney. We take turns clearing up and washing the dishes."

I shook my head, not sure whether I should believe them or not. "Thankfully, my Ma does the cooking though." Liam said, feigning a shudder. "Neither of us can cook to save our lives."

"Speak for yourself." Sark muttered. "I can!"

"Only after about two months of lessons." Liam stage whispered to me as he walked past.

I smiled at the good-natured teasing between the two men, my gaze drifting back to Sark. Like yesterday, he wore faded jeans and a baggy jumper, looking far less sophisticated than he usually did in the field. I realised this was what Sark looked like at home – and how he acted with his friends. Something warm uncurled in my stomach with the knowledge that I was now considered trustworthy enough to see more of the man underneath the mask than the rest of the world got to. Isabella's words came back into my mind: _My advice to you, woman who shares my face, seek out the man who shares his and trust him. He may seem cold and cruel on the surface, but I guarantee that the man underneath is well worth it._

I could definitely see her meaning now, and I wondered why I had never seen it before. I know Sark had not intentionally shown it to me, but I should have considered that there was a lot more to him than met the eye. From my dealings with Sloane, I should have known that you can't just classify someone as a 'bad guy' and leave it at that – there's always more to it.

"I was hoping that you would be feeling better in a day or two so we could find Rambaldi's map." Sark said, breaking the silence that had fallen after Liam had left, carrying a large pile of dishes. "While Sloane may not know exactly where it is, I'd like to retrieve it as soon as possible."

I nodded, understanding the feeling. "Sure." I said. "Will you?"

As I knew both from Liam's comments and from watching him over breakfast, Sark was a little paler than usual and he favoured his left arm a little more than usual. His sharp gaze fastened on mine. "Why wouldn't I be feeling fine?" he asked, probably a little sharper than he intended.

"You're favouring your left arm." I said, leaving out the fact I had heard Liam's comment.

Sark smirk, although his expression held admiration. "You never do miss much, do you Sydney?" he asked, not really expecting or needing an answer. "And it's fine. Nothing more than a scratch."

I shrugged. If he didn't want to tell me about his injury, I wasn't going to push it. Sark wouldn't go into the field if he didn't think he could handle it, especially not with the Covenant now after us, as well as the CIA and probably Irina. I suspected that Dad would have at least contacted her to try and find me, and she'd probably be keeping tabs on Sark as well.

"Is Liam coming with us?" I asked.

Sark shook his head. "No. I don't want the Covenant or the CIA to know about his involvement with me if I can help it, and they'll be focused on my next movement enough as it is." He glanced at me, thoughtful. "The CIA probably know about your and my involvement. Particularly if they've been keeping a close eye on the Covenant."

I nodded, having come to the same conclusion myself. "We weren't going to be able to keep it from them forever." I said. "Nor would I want to. I'm not hiding what I'm doing, Sark. I'm _sick_ of hiding. I want them to know."

Sark gazed at me, his expression strange. I couldn't read the emotions because Sark was keeping whatever they were in check, but I had a feeling that somehow I had just passed a test. Before I could question him, however, Liam stuck his head around the door. "Julian, Ma wants to see you in the kitchen."

"If you'll excuse me." He said, and I nodded, still a little bemused that Sark, international spy and assassin, would have someone named 'Ma' in their kitchen at all.

* * *

I spent the next two days sleeping and training, trying to get ready for the mission to retrieve Rambaldi's map. I slowly got to know more about Liam and strangely the pair of us became good friends over that short time. He had met Sark as a child and when his father had been killed by one of the followers of Rambaldi, Sark had taken in him and his mother. Apparently, Liam's father had been a follower too, and had known Irina. Like Sark, Liam didn't like Rambaldi or how people would commit atrocities in his name and jumped at the chance to actively fight against them.

I had wondered how the CIA or anyone else had never heard of Liam and mentioned the same to him. He told me it was because he always worked from behind the scenes while Sark kept everyone focused on him. It worked well, because if no one knew who you were then you could do a lot more before you got caught. It was a principle I had used on many occasions.

On the second day, I found Sark sitting in the library. We hadn't really talked to each other, except for meals, since I had woken up and I was wondering why. I got the feeling he was trying to avoid me, and I wasn't sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with the last dream I had had, because I knew he had the same dreams I did.

"Morning, Sark." I said, seeing him sitting on one of the chairs by the empty fireplace. "What are you reading?"

I came to sit in the opposite chair to his, a friendly smile on my face. Sark looked up and over at me, his book still in his hand, and raised an eyebrow at my perky tone. He could see right through it, so I shrugged. "I was trying to be friendly." I said, somewhat defensively.

Sark smirked and shook his head. "There was a time when you wouldn't hesitate to try and kick my head in." he said.

I shrugged. "We can try that if you think it'd help." I said.

"Help?" he echoed, a suspicious look on his face. "Why would you think that would help?"

Since friendliness hadn't worked, I decided just to be blunt. "You're avoiding me." I said.

Sark blinked and his smirk slipped for a second. Then it was back. "Maybe I am." He answered honestly.

"Why?" I asked. "Did I do something?"

He shook his head. "This isn't about anything you've done." He replied.

"Is it about something I haven't done?" I asked, wanting to find out the reason.

Sark sighed and closed his eyes for a second. "No." he answered.

"So what then?" I demanded.

"You don't want to know." He said.

"I think I do." I got up to stand over him when he didn't reply. I glared at him when he finally looked up, hands on my hips. "Answer me Sark. What's going on?"

Sark surged to his feet, something dark glittering in his eyes. "Right now?" he growled out. "The problem is I want to kiss you."

That surprised me. He must have seen it in my expression, because he spun and stalked away, intending to leave the library. He stopped, dead in his tracks however, when I opened my mouth. I think a demon ran away with my tongue, because I couldn't believe I'd just uttered those words. "Then kiss me."

"What?" Sark snapped darkly, spinning around to face me. "Are you crazy?"

"Probably." I shrugged. "But I think I like being crazy."

"Sydney, I am a bad man!" he growled, taking a step closer to me. His eyes glittered darkly with anger…and heat. "I've been responsible for the torture and murder of your friends! You should want to shoot me!"

I winced when he voice some of the things that I had been trying to forget. Images of Will in Taiwan, looking beaten and bruised…images of Francie smiling…fighting with Alison…

Looking Sark dead in the eye, I let my own anger and pain show. "I know what you did. And I can't tell you that I don't want to know why, because I do. But I'm beginning to know _you_, Sark. Maybe that's supposed to count for something!"

"So, what? I'm so loveable that you're willing to forget the people I've tortured and killed?" Sark snapped.

"Stop being a fucking asshole!" I raged.

Sark blinked as I swore at him, his angry response dying on his lips. "Now explain to me why you did those things." I continued, my tone still angry but controlled. "Then I'll decided whether I should shoot you or not."

Rage glittered in Sark's blue eyes, turning them icy, but I was unconcerned. I was angry enough that part of me just wanted to provoke him further, but I ruthlessly controlled it. I truly wanted to hear his explanation. "I thought Will Tippin was working for an enemy of Irina's. She wanted me to find out who and how much he knew." Sark said, suddenly seeming exhausted.

He walked back over to his chair and sat down heavily, but I remained standing. "I truly believed he was an agent at the time." He refused to look at me. "As for Francie, I might not have been involved in planning it, but Sloane made me Alison's contact. I was responsible for keeping her in place."

I saw in that moment, a little of just how much Sark's life had been manipulated and controlled by the people he worked for. I saw the thread of loyalty in his expression when he talked of Irina, as I saw the signs of betrayal. I heard the hard tone of voice when he said Sloane and realised more of his life had been about survival then any of us had ever guessed. I understood he wasn't innocent, but then I always had. But unlike evil monsters such as Sloane, he was mainly guilty of survival. And that I could forgive. God knew, I had done enough evil deeds in the name of survival to understand.

"I've known that for a long time." I said.

"What?" Sark finally looked up at me.

"I said that I knew you were acting under Irina's orders when you tortured Will, just as I suspected you were Alison's contact. I knew when I contacted you to work together. So don't delude yourself into thinking those facts are suddenly going to drive me away like you want."

Sark sent me an irritated glare. I think in that moment, he hated just how well I knew him. It was only fair; he's done the same to me. "Now that this is all out the way, will you stop avoiding me?"

"I'll always carry those black marks on my soul." Sark whispered, before answering in a louder voice. "Maybe."

"You're not the only one with black marks on your soul, you know." I told him.

Sark smirked at me, but I don't think his heart was in it. "That wasn't the reason I was going to keep avoiding you."

"Ah." I said. "The whole kiss thing."

"You needn't say it so casually, you know." Sark grumped.

The same demon as before seemed to rise up again and take control of my tongue. I never ceased to amaze me how quickly moods between Sark and me could change. But suddenly we had gone from anger and pain and sadness, to playful flirting and, if I wanted to be completely honest about it, lust. "Feeling intimidated?" I asked wickedly.

"I'm never imitated by you, Sydney." He smirked back.

Sauntering over, I leant down and put my hands on each arm of his chair, leaning in close to his face. "So this doesn't intimidate you?" I asked.

Sark's eyes darkened almost immediately and I knew I was playing with fire; I just didn't care. In fact, I like it. "No." he answered.

I leaned closer. "Are you sure?" I asked.

Seeing his glance slip to my lips, I knew he was going to kiss me about a heartbeat before he did. His hand fisted in my shirt, yanking me towards him in the same moment his lips crashed onto mine. The kiss was passionate and brutal, fuelled by anger and lust. His tongue invaded my mouth, taking as it went. His taste was addicting; dark and mysterious like the man himself. My hands fisted on his jumper as his tangled in my hair, dragging me closer to him. Our tongues battled for supremacy, fighting like we always had in life.

We broke apart, chests heaving, at the sound of a knock on the library door. Turning from where I was now sprawled across Sark's lap, I saw Liam leaning against the door, a large grin on his face. "Pilot is on his way." He said. "You'd better get a move on."

I felt the blush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks at his words and I scrambled out of Sark's lap. Liam left with a soft chuckle. Refusing to look Sark in the eye, I tried to gather my wits. Man, that had been one mind-blowing kiss!

Sark…"I began, but he cut me off.

"Julian." He corrected. "My name is Julian."

I looked up and caught the expression in his eyes. There was heat and want mixed up with a hint of wonder and a steely resolve. I shivered at the possession of it, but it wasn't a shiver of fear. Sark had decided what he wanted and that was me. Nothing was going to stand in his way. Not that I wanted anything to be in the way, mind you.

I felt my lips curve into a wicked smile. "Julian." I savoured the word. "Shall we?" I indicated the door.

Sark smirked back. "We shall." He replied.

To Be Continued…


	9. Finding the Watchglass

Author's Note: Okay, this chapter is a bit of a higher rating than the previous ones. I had a bit of trouble with it too, which is why it took so long. Hope everyone seems in character and I hope you enjoy!

Cheeky.

* * *

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Nine:

Gobi Desert

The heat blasted through me like a furnace as sweat dripped from my skin. It was so unbelievably hot out here. I mean, I know it was a desert, but come on! Sark and I had left the jeep at the beginning of a deep canyon as it was unfortunately too narrow to drive through. This meant we'd spent the last hour slogging through the heat, the sand and the unforgiving sun – which somehow still managed to beat mercilessly down on my head despite the high canyon walls. This was worse than the Himalayas!

I was dressed for the trek in boots, khakis and a loose shirt over a white tank, with a hat and sunglasses. Sark was dressed the same, except his tank was black – he seemed incapable of going anywhere without wearing one article of black clothing. I'd already teased him about it, which, let me tell you, is quite a surreal experience.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate Rambaldi?" I grumbled to Sark when he stopped briefly for a drink.

He shot me an amused glance as he drank and I was distracted momentarily by his bared throat. Despite the heat and the sweat, it looked good enough to nibble. "You might have mentioned it." Sark replied, breaking into my thoughts.

Taking a drink myself, both to distract myself from dangerous-while-on-a-mission thoughts and because I needed it, I let the sweet, if warm, water slide over my tongue and pretended I was somewhere else; away from the heat and sun and threat of psychotic bad guys on our trail. "The beach." I muttered.

"The beach?" Sark echoed, a little confused by my seemingly random statement.

"I want to be at the beach." I explained as we began walking again. "Sipping one of those drinks with an umbrella in them. Or swimming."

Sark grinned. "Behave yourself and I might just take you." He teased.

I smiled back, still feeling the warmth that had spread through me at his gentle teasing. It wasn't malicious or an attempt to gain the upper hand, just relaxed and genuine. "Same goes for you buster!" I shot back.

"Buster?" Sark repeated, sounding a little offended.

"Mr. High-and-mighty?"

Sark glared. "I think I preferred 'Buster'."

"What about: Mr. I'm-so-badass-I-have-to-wear-black-all-the-time?"

"Sydney…" Sark sounded amused, yet annoyed, but trailed off as we rounded a corner and came face-to-face with what we were looking for.

The temple that housed the map was tall and imposing, carved right out of the dark brown canyon walls. The entrance gaped wide, full of shadows and reminded me of a monster's open mouth, just waiting for someone stupid enough to enter. A shiver slid down my spine. I didn't need the Rambaldi symbol above the door to tell me this was a bad place.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." I muttered to Sark.

"Me too." He agreed.

Cautiously, we walked through the entrance and into the shadows beyond. My muscles tensed, expecting something bad to happen. When nothing did, instead of relaxing, the tension seemed to grow. Sark clicked on one of the torches we had brought, as I dug in my pack and did the same.

The light illuminated centuries of dirt and sand that had been blown inside and the odd bit of evidence that the temple had been stumbled across once or twice over the years. Nothing indicated, however, that they had used the temple for anything but shelter.

Making our way deeper into the temple, I noticed with some delight that the temperature was cooler. It wasn't much, just a degree or two, but that, combined with being out of the unforgiving sun, made me feel a lot better. At the back of that I can only really call the entrance hall, we found a tunnel that led deeper into the rock. With a nod to Sark, I disappeared down it, comforted by his familiar presence at my back. The deeper I went into the passage, the closer my hand seemed to drift to my gun. Shooting a glance at Sark through the shadows, I noticed his hand was doing the same.

Gradually, the passage seemed to slope upwards, before opening up into a large and brightly lit room. I switched off my torch, not needing it anymore. Bright shafts of sunlight poured in from the small holes in the ceiling, colouring everything golden. I raised my eyebrows in surprise when I caught sight of the floor.

A large map completely covered the sandstone floor, still brightly coloured even after the years that had gone by since it had been painted. It looked slightly odd to my eyes, skewed slightly compared to the maps of today, but it was surprisingly accurate for the 15th century.

"Wow." I said. "Think we're going to have a hard time rolling that up and taking it out of here."

Sark smiled slightly at my weak attempt at a joke. "We'll just have to read it here." He said. "Then destroy it."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

We set to work, retrieving the Watchglass from our packs and trying to find an indication of how to use it. Spotting a shaft of sunlight that appeared brighter than all the others, I wandered over to it, carefully skirting the map. I smiled triumphantly when I spotted the niche in the floor where the shaft landed. "Found it!" I called. "Hand me the Watchglass, will you?"

Sark raised an eyebrow in curiosity, before walking over and passing me the Watchglass. Carefully, I took it from him and our fingers brushed. Suddenly, I felt like a teenager all over again. It was insane! Shooting him a shy smile, I crouched next to the niche and he followed, crouching on the other side.

"So it fits in there?" Sark asked, indicating the niche.

"I think so." I nodded.

Still very careful, I fitted the base of the Watchglass into the niche and it sank in with an audible click. Almost immediately, the bright sunlight filtered through the lens of the Watchglass, diffusing across the map in the shape of the Rambaldi symbol.

"Okay." I said as I stared at the map. "Any idea how to read this?"

"I'm afraid not." Sark replied.

I blew out a frustrated sigh, still crouched by the Watchglass. "Stupid Rambaldi!" I muttered under my breath. "So where is that?" I asked in a louder voice, pointing to the spot on the map that fell in the circle part of the symbol.

Sark leaned over and read the markings. "The Atlantic Ocean." He answered.

"Oh."

He smiled at me, a real knock-out smile. All I could think was 'Wow!'. I think I even forgot to breathe there for a second. "When you said you wanted to go swimming, you weren't kidding, were you?"

I smiled a little sheepishly. "Guess I'll have to work on my subtlety, huh?"

Sark chuckled. Then, suddenly struck by a thought, I turned back to the Watchglass. "Hang on…" I muttered.

Carefully, I reached out and turned the Watchglass so it was facing the opposite way. I grinned in triumph when the map lit up a different way, this time showing us a path. "Impressive." Sark said, his eyes on me, not the map.

I blushed a little as I grabbed paper and a pen from my pack, which was thankfully nearby. I quickly sketched the location on the map and jotted down what looked like the coordinates. "Where is that?" I asked absently. "Colombia?"

"Possibly." Sark replied. "Somewhere in the Amazon definitely."

"The rainforest?" I said with disgust. "Great. We're trading sand and almost unbearable heat for bugs and almost unbearable humidity."

"Where's your sense of adventure, Sydney?" Sark asked.

"In my other pants." I quipped.

Sark chuckled. "Try and focus on the fun parts, Syd."

"What? You mean the snakes and the leeches and the bad guys on our ass?" I asked, trying to ignore the strange flip my stomach did when Sark used my nickname.

Sark shook his head. "You have a weird sense of fun. I meant the romantic atmosphere and the thrill of exploration."

I shot him a disbelieving look. "You've never been to the Amazon, have you?"

"I try to avoid anywhere with snakes large than me."

Shaking my head at the disgust in his tone, I concentrated on finishing my drawings. When I was done, Sark carefully removed the container of acid he had brought and poured it all over the map, dissolving the pain and making it unreadable. As soon as he was done, he turned to me. "Let's go."

We quickly made our way back along the tunnel to the entrance hall, before I was suddenly yanked backwards as Sark flattened me against the rough wall. I frowned at him when I felt his tense muscles, before I heard the sound that had put him so on edge. Someone was out there!

I drew my gun even as I nodded to Sark, letting him know that I knew someone was out there. Sark remained pressed against me and try as I might, the sensation of his chest pressing me into the wall was distracting me from what I was supposed to be concentrating on.

He bent his head to my ear, his warm breath on my skin sending tingles down my spine. "There's no cover out there." He whispered. "Our best chance is to find cover in the canyon."

I nodded and Sark stepped away from me, leaving me feeling strangely bereft. He drew his own gun, before we both exploded out of the tunnel. I heard cries of surprise as I sprinted past and got off a few shots before the Covenant team had time to bring their guns up. Beside me, Sark was doing the same.

Using the advantage of surprise as best we could, Sark and I darted out into the merciless sunshine, gunfire following us from inside the temple. I gasped in surprise when I saw what was waiting for us just outside. It seemed the Covenant wasn't taking any chances.

Bullets bit into the sand inches from me legs as I changed direction suddenly, still firing as I went. Sark was a little faster at reacting than I was and managed to grab the back of my shirt when I lost my balance for a second. Together, we sprinted down the canyon and away from the Covenant standing guard just outside the temple – in the opposite direction of the jeep.

Sweat poured down my face as I sprinted through the blazing heat, but I didn't dare let up the pace even for a second. Thankfully, this half of the canyon was narrower and more twisted than the other, providing partial cover from the bullets being fired at us. I glanced around a little wildly as I searched for somewhere to hide or fight from. The Covenant would catch up before we emerged from the canyon and even if by some miracle they didn't, we wouldn't have anywhere to go.

Abruptly, I stumbled forward as I tripped over a rock, having been paying too much attention to the canyon walls and not enough to where I was going. I landed heavily on my hands and knees in the sand, my head snapping to the left.

"Syd!" Sark called out, having seen me go down.

Frowning, I scrambled to my feet, having caught a glimpse of something while on my hands and knees. When I was on my feet again, I looked hard, but couldn't see the small cave's entrance. It appeared to be hidden by an outcropping of rock. "Syd! Come on!" Sark yelled.

He ran forward to grab my arm as the bullets got ever closer. Instead, I grabbed his sleeve and tugged upwards. He frowned in confusion, so I let got of his sleeve and began to scramble up the canyon wall. With a loud curse and a glance towards the pursuing Covenant goons, he followed me, wiggling into the small cave seconds after me.

Sark gave me an impressed glance, before moving further into the cave as the Covenant goons raced by below. There was barely enough space in the tiny crevice for us both to fit, especially if we wanted to do anything than stand almost jammed together. We were hidden from the men on the ground by the outcropping, however, and right now, that's what was important.

My heart pounded loudly and my breath came in pants as I listened to the angry shouts below. Sark, too, was still panting from the chase and the sounds seemed loud in the small space. "They've gone." Sark whispered about ten minutes later.

I let out a breath of relief and sagged a little. "Thank God." I gasped, finally letting the fear flood through me.

Carefully, Sark and I managed to sit down in the cramped space. I rested my head on the wall behind me, letting my eyes flicker closed. "We should probably wait here until dark." Sark said, the same weariness I felt in his voice. "With any luck, they'll think we've gone."

I nodded my agreement, my eyes still closed. I still wasn't feeling up to speed after what Sloane had done to me, and now that the adrenaline was waning, the exhaustion was setting in. "Sleep, if you like." Sark told me softly. "I'll keep watch."

"No." I protested softly. "I'm fine…"

"You can't keep your eyes open, Syd."

I cracked one eye open long enough to glare at him. He chuckled. "Come on, Syd."

Gently, Sark tugged me down so that my head was cushioned on his thigh and I was as comfortable as I was going to get. I smiled sleepily as a hand came up to stroke my hair. "I like it when you do that." I mumbled tiredly. "And when you call me Syd."

I felt the soft rumble as Sark chuckled. "Sleep, Syd." He said, and I did.

* * *

I woke a little after sunset with a shiver. Like most deserts, once the sun went down, the temperature dropped rapidly and I could already feel the chill in the air. Sark put a gently finger to my lips, telling me to be quiet and I nodded slightly. Sitting up, I reached automatically for my gun as my hair fell across my face. Somewhere along the chase I had lost my hat and my hair had come loose in a tumble. Irritated, I reached up with my other hand and tried to brush it away, but it fell right back as soon as I took my hand away. Sark grinned in amusement, just a flash of white in the growing dark.

Leaning closer, Sark once again whispered in my ear. "There's two men down there."

"What do you want to do?" I whispered back.

"Are you up to climbing down there and dealing with them?" Sark asked, his mouth only a breath from my ear. "If you're not, we can wait them out."

I shivered slightly and moved closer to Sark, pretending I was clod. His arms came up around me in response, but I don't think he was fooled for a second. "I can do it." I answered, knowing just as he did that we wouldn't last long if we waited them out – we weren't dressed for the cold.

Sark nodded and carefully we scrambled out to the edge of the cave. Below, I spotted two goons on patrol, their movements giving them away. In unspoken agreement, we leapt at the same time, jumping the distance of about a body-length to the ground. I hit one of the goons heavily on the back, driving him into the sand. I hit him with the butt of my gun, before looking up and seeing Sark lowering the prone body of the other guard to the ground. "Come on." He whispered.

I nodded and scrambled up, following him as he cautiously jogged back towards the temple. We only spotted one more goon on the way, and Sark took him out easily. "We need to get to the jeep." I whispered to Sark as I came to crouch beside him, before turning and gazing out at the temple.

Two guards patrolled the air, with a third manning a bright spotlight. "We need to shoot out that spotlight." Sark whispered.

"No." I shook my head. "They'll know where we are if you do that."

"Well then, what do you suggest?"

I watched the movements of the guards for a moment. "I can sneak up on the man behind the spotlight if you can take out the guard over there."

Sark nodded in reply, so I snuck through the shadows towards the man with the light. Keeping to the shadows, I managed to get right behind him with relative ease, my training superior to his. I took him out with a swift blow to the head, moving again as soon as I had taken him out, immediately searching for the other guards. I spotted one of them peering into the darkness with a torch and crept towards him, hoping Sark had managed to take out the other guard.

"James?" the guard called out. "Where are you, man?"

He never got to say any more, as I knocked him unconscious with a viscous spin-kick. Sark smirked at me as he emerged from the darkness, obviously having taken care of the other guard. "Let's go." He said.

I nodded as we resumed our cautious jog, the night getting colder around us. I shivered, cold despite the jogging and the fighting and the adrenaline. We slowed as we got closer to where the jeep was parked, just as the canyon got wider around us. We hadn't seen any goons since the temple, and frankly, that was making me nervous. We should have seen some.

My muscles tensed in response to the growing unease I felt, and I grew more alert, scanning the darkness for the first hint of movement. Even so, the attack still caught me by surprise. I was slammed into the sand by something heavy smashing into my back, and I tasted dirt and blood. I reacted in a second, twisting viciously to stop myself being trapped by whoever it was and bringing up my gun. I pulled the trigger, killing the man on top of me before he could use the knife in his hand.

The gunshot sounded loud in the quiet night and everything seemed to explode a second later. I shoved the heavy body off mine as bullets tore into the ground where Sark had been standing only moments before. Scrambling to my feet, I dove out of the way of a second spray of bullets, this time directed at me. I managed to shoot a few more of our attackers before I ran out of bullets, as did Sark by the sound of things.

"Pin him down, damnit!" Came this hissed order from the shadows.

Damn, I knew that voice. Sloane. What the hell was he doing here?

I scrabbled around in the small bag I wore over my shoulder for a spare clip, slamming it home with a satisfying sound as I kept moving. Our jeep was at the end of this damned canyon and right now, it was the only thing that would save us.

"Hello, Sydney." Sloane's voice said in my ear as he grabbed me from behind.

Pressing a gun into my neck, Sloane dragged me further from the fighting after relieving me of my gun and I cursed myself a million times for letting him get the better of me. Fuck, he would have planned on ambushing me and I'd walked right into it!

"You ran off before we could finish our conversation." Sloane continued conversationally, and I felt the gun shift as he let go of me.

Suddenly I knew exactly what was going to happen. Sloane hadn't been waiting in ambush for the Watchglass, or for some attempt at revenge. He wanted to inject me with that green stuff again, probably because Rambaldi made it or something – and that scared me more than anything else ever could. I knew that it meant incredible pain, but I was no stranger to pain. No, the part of it that scared me the most was the feelings of being controlled while whatever it was swam through my system. Like I wasn't myself anymore.

"You call that a conversation?" I snapped at Sloane as I waited for my moment. "I've had better conversation with rats."

"Oh, Sydney." Sloane said, shifting his grip on his gun again slightly. "You used to confide so much in me. Don't pretend it was nothing."

Instead of saying anything in reply, I responded with a sudden spin, tearing myself from his grasp and getting away from the gun and more importantly, that needle. I kicked the gun out of his hand in a smooth movement, not wanted to have Sloane tempted to shoot me, before turning my attention to the hand holding the needle.

Sloane gasped slightly when my boot slammed into his wrist, but he held firm. He jabbed at me with the needle, aiming for my neck and I retaliated with a vicious kick to his stomach. This time he grunted, almost doubling over in pain and I felt a curious sensation take over me. It was almost as if the world was taking a second or so too long to catch up to me. Like slow motion, only this wasn't due to adrenaline…this was something far scarier.

I lashed out with a punch to Sloane's jaw, my anger taking over for a second, before I knocked him out with another kick. Hearing gunfire coming from the direction I had seen Sark disappear in, I quickly grabbed my gun back from Sloane and took off. Then I paused and ran back, grinding the syringe containing the green stuff into the dirt. I probably should have taken it to look at, but I wasn't taking any chances with that stuff.

Another goon charged me as I turned and I shot him before he could get closer enough to hurt me. I lashed out with a spin-kick at the next, slipping under his arm and breaking it with a snap. Then I slammed the goon's head into the nearby canyon wall. Looking around for someone else, I scanned the shadows and almost lashed out as they seemed to move. Thankfully I recognised Sark and stopped in time.

I blinked, Sark's face suddenly in front of mine. When had he moved? "Sydney!" his voice finally seemed to filter through to my ears and his tone was worried. "Sydney, can you hear me?"

The spell around me shattered and I sagged to the ground. Sark looked worried. "Sydney, are you alright?"

I looked up at him, feeling the tears gather in my eyes. I was confused and scared, feeling like I was being sucked further and further into Rambaldi's endgame no matter what I did to try and stop him. "Syd?" Sark asked more softly, crouching down in front of me and gently cupping the sides of my head. "What happened?"

"Sloane." I whispered brokenly. "He did something to me when he put that stuff in me, Julian. He tried to do it again."

"Ssh." Sark soothed, gathering me into his arms. "We'll fix this."

I'd caught the flinty look in Sark's eye as he had gathered me close and knew Sloane never stood a chance now. Not with both of us after his blood. "Come on." Sark said, pulling away again. "Let's get out of here."

I nodded, still feeling scared and vulnerable, particularly when Sark reached out and grazed his fingers over my cheek bone, as if tracing something. "What is it?" I asked.

"The Rambaldi symbol." Sark said, his eyes as tormented as I felt. "The bloody Rambaldi symbol."

A tear slipped down my cheek. Was there no escaping destiny?

"We'll fix this, Syd." Sark repeated, before he gently tugged me to my feet. "Come on."

* * *

Beijing

We'd managed to find our jeep not long after that and the drive to Beijing hadn't seemed to take long at all. I'd slept fitfully, keeping silent when I was awake, needing to understand what was happening to me. Now I sat curled up on the couch of a hotel room in downtown Beijing, wearing one of Sark's old sweaters and feeling no surer of what was going on. The nightmares hadn't helped either. Images of betrayals had filled me head, followed by memories of confinement and torture. I knew these weren't Isabella's memories, either – they were mine, from my missing two years.

I knew I should be glad that I was finally remembering parts of what had happened to me, even if it was only in my dreams, but somehow, my nightmares had left me feeling even more vulnerable. I hugged my knees closer to my chest and laid my head on my knees. I felt so alone.

Gradually, I became aware of sounds of a struggle coming from Sark's bedroom and fearing the worst, I surged to my feet, grabbing my gun from the couch beside me. I padded softly to the door and peered in, hoping no one had found us. I let out a slow breath of relief when I found it was not an attacker Sark was struggling with, but his own nightmares. I padded softly to the bed, before perching gently on the edge. Reaching out, I put my hand on his shoulder and shook slightly, knowing it would be enough to wake him.

It did. His blue eyes snapped open and almost immediately his breathing began to calm. I took my hand off his shoulder, his skin sweaty beneath my touch. "You, okay?" I asked.

He sighed and nodded. "Just nightmares." He said.

"Figured as much." I replied, getting up to leave again.

His hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist, stopping me. I turned back and saw he was now sitting up in bed, the sheet pooling in his lap and revealing his naked chest. Yesterday, that sight might have made me blush or even blurt out some sort of flirty comment, but today I just felt empty. Tears gathered in my eyes and I didn't stop them. I just didn't care anymore. Nothing seemed to matter.

"Oh, Syd." Sark whispered, pulling me into his arms and gently slipping the gun from my hand and onto the nightstand beside us. "I promise you we'll find out what he did and fix it."

Cradled in his arms, I began to feel a little better. The comfort my once-sworn enemy gave me was unlike any other, as I knew that it was only for me. No one else had ever seen this tender and caring side of Sark. Just me. "I know." I whispered back.

We sat there in silence for a moment, taking strength and comfort from each other. "My dad knew about the second half of the prophecy. Dixon did too." I said suddenly, wanting to finally let go of the pain I had felt at their betrayal. "And it hurt. I hadn't wanted to believe he was capable of betraying me like that again. And Dixon…"

I trailed off. What could I say about the man who had once been my partner at SD-6? There were so many lies and secrets between us now, I feared we would never be close again. And after this betrayal…I felt like so many people in my life had betrayed me; how was I going to forgive him?

"That's why you finally left the CIA, isn't it?" Sark's quiet question broke into my thoughts.

Leaning back a little so I could see his face, I nodded. "In a way." I answered. "My leaving the CIA had been a long time in coming. Ever since I began to work for them they've used me to do the dirty work they couldn't do. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being at the beck and call of assholes who believe that you owe them. I'm sick of secrets and betrayals and hidden intentions."

Sark gave me a wry smile. "My life and the one you've chosen are hardly free of secrets or hidden intentions, Syd." He said.

"But not from you." I replied. "And I don't have to smile anymore, not if I don't want to. I can scream at the world and no one is going to tell me I can't."

"It really got to you, didn't it?" Sark said, his blue eyes gazing into mine with more compassion than I expected. "Your mask always seemed just as good as mine, but the cracks have been there for a long time, haven't they?"

I nodded, unable to really say anything else. My short declaration had exhausted me, even as a massive weight seemed to lift from my chest. Sark seemed to sense it, gently tugging me down to lie beside him, curled into this side. Once again, Isabella's words came back to me and I understood now. There was no one else in the world like Julian Sark.

"You're not the only one." Sark admitted softly. "Although, my nightmares are far less exciting than yours."

It was comforting; lying there in the dark, listening to Sark's heartbeat as we shared our secrets in the darkness. "Tell me." I whispered softly.

"Prisons and cages." Sark said. "They terrify me. I've fought so hard in this life to survive and to be free, but somehow it seems that every time I turn around I find myself in another cage; Sloane and Irina, the CIA and now the Covenant. I just want to be free."

"We're really not so different, are we?" I said, with a slight smile, understanding Sark's fears, just as he had understood mine.

"No, not so different at all." Sark agreed.

I shifted so I could look up into his face and the blue eyes that seemed to reflect so much even when they didn't show anything at all. I smiled again when I saw his eyes were closed. I reached up to gently trace his cheekbones, fascinated by how boyish his face looked at that moment. Sark had had a hard life – it was obvious in every line of his face, every guarded shadow in his eyes. And yet, right now he lost some of that hardness. He blinked open his eyes to find me staring at him, my fingers still tracing over his face.

Still watching him, I stretched upwards and pressed my lips to his. Somehow it felt right when his arms tightened around me and dragged me closer to him. Sark knew me better than anyone now. I hadn't let anyone else see that soul-deep confusion and pain I had been carrying with me for so long and he hadn't flinched from it. More than that, he'd understood because he carried the same wounds, the same scars.

My fingers slipped down to trace the curving scars across his rib cage and felt the bones underneath. "You need to eat more." I told him when our mouths broke apart.

He smiled, a genuine, knock-out smile straight from the heart. It melted mine from the inside out. "So do you." He replied, his hands tracing my ribs beneath his large sweater.

Because it was too tempting not to, and because it seemed like my very soul was crying out for this, I leaned back down to kiss him again. His mouth was hot and tasted as darkly sinful as I remembered. Our tongues duelled as he flipped me beneath him, dragging of the sweater as he went. My hands traced over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the hot skin and the way his heart seemed to speed up with every touch.

Clothes fell to the floor in rumpled piles as each of us struggled to get closer to the other. My mouth drifted from his, down his neck, nibbling as I went. I traced the scars decorating his hard chest with my mouth as Sark's hands drifted up from my back to tangle in my hair. He tugged me back for another deep kiss and left trails of fire over my skin as he hands traced over it.

His mouth followed and then he was thrusting into me and I felt my mind loose the ability to form coherent thought. Then I exploded and fell back into his arms, blissfully sated and feeling more treasured that I ever had before in my life. "Sleep, love." The whispered words drifted over me as my eyes shut and I drifted into oblivion.

* * *

I woke up in the morning to a knocking at the door. Sark answered and came back with a grim look on his face and holding a short note.

"What is it?" I asked, sitting up and pushing the hair from my face.

Sark looked over at me, his eyes heating when his gaze ran over me, and I realised belatedly that the sheet was pooled in my laps. He smirked at me as I pulled it up, but his eyes still held that note of worry. "It's from Irina." He said, passing the note to me.

It was short and simple, just like I expected. _Meet me in the Summer Palace Gardens, 1pm_. "What do you think it's about?" I asked him.

"I have no idea." Sark replied. "Irina and I haven't spoken in a while. And I hardly think this is a meeting to renew old acquaintances."

"No." I agreed.

"Come on." Sark said, trying to sound more cheerful than either of us were feeling. "We've still got a few hours before she wants to meet. I'll buy you breakfast."

I smiled. Breakfast with Sark sounded like a good idea. "She won't want to see both of us, Julian. This is meant for just you."

"Well, then she's just going to have to deal with it, isn't she?" Sark replied. "We're in this together, aren't we?"

His words brought a grin to my face that was as real as the feeling of sunlight finally beginning to drive away the clouds. I got out of bed, dragging the sheet with me and kissed him, feeling blessed that he was by my side. Together we could do anything. "Of course we are." I told him when we broke apart, a little breathless. "Now, are you sure you want breakfast? Because I'm sure room service can do…"

I never got to finish my sentence as Sark pulled me close for another passionate kiss. Storm clouds were rolling in again, I knew that, but I'd be damned if they were going to take my sunshine this time. No one would.

To Be Continued…


	10. The Price of Freedom

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Ten:

Beijing

The gardens of the Summer Palace were magical. I felt an air of peace and serenity as soon as I entered and the gardens themselves were spectacularly beautiful. But even as Sark and I strolled through the gardens to meet Irina, I felt the feeling of dread that had begun in the Gobi Desert grow. Sark and I were once again dressed in our personas; the hardened spies we showed the world. Sark wore his black suit and his face was hard, his eyes like ice. I wore black as well; jeans, my heeled boots and leather jacket. My makeup was as it had been when I had proposed the partnership deal to Sark – oh, how long ago that felt!

Putting on my armour again this morning had been both comforting and painful. I had felt such wonderful freedom with Sark, a freedom I couldn't feel with the rest of the world watching. We approached the lake where Irina was waiting and I moved away slightly – just close enough to hear, but so Irina couldn't see me just yet. Just before I slipped away, Sark reached out and squeezed my hand slightly. The touch was brief, but enough to know that I just had to say the word and Sark and I would disappear. I flashed him a smile, but continued on. We were doing this.

Sark approached Irina, who was patiently sitting on the bench gazing out over the lake. Sark sat down beside her, but didn't look at her and she made no move to acknowledge him. To an observer, they were just two strangers sharing a bench. I knew it was a careful illusion, but I wasn't sure if it was meant to fool anyone watching or each other.

"Irina." Sark greeted unemotionally, his gaze drifting over the lake.

"I wasn't sure you'd come." Irina said, her voice lilting and exotic with its faint Russian accent.

Sark risked a glance at her; his eyes glittered like ice, just like they always had on those missions when we were enemies and rivals. "I considered it might be important. You wouldn't have contacted me otherwise."

"I did what I thought was best." Irina replied, anger colouring her tone a little.

It sounded like an argument they had had before. "I didn't come here to argue, Irina." Sark said coldly.

Irina chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in the sound. "I think I taught you too well, Julian." She said. "Is it so easy to dismiss what I am to you?"

"The way things turned out was your choice, Irina."

I saw the tension in Sark's shoulders and realised that Irina had let him be captured by the CIA and rot in prison for two years, just like she had let the Covenant use him. Once again, I felt a surge of anger towards the woman who was my mother for manipulating everyone around her like she did.

When Sark remained silent, Irina finally came out with the reason she had arranged this meeting. "Sloane injected Sydney with a Rambaldi formula designed to re-write her genetic code."

I sucked in a sharp breath at her words. I felt like someone had just punched me in the gut. Fear gripped me for a second, before I pushed it down again. I was going to kill that cold-blooded bastard! On the bench, Sark appeared to be having a similar reaction, but his was far more controlled than mine had been. "To what end?" Sark asked calmly.

"Rambaldi believed that Sydney could be controlled. Prevented from destroying his greatest work. The formula was the way he was going to stop her."

"_Was_ going to stop her?"

"To completely control her, Sloane would need to inject her with three vials of formula. He succeeded once, but the second vial was destroyed." Irina continued to explain. "He could possibly synthesise more, but that would take time he doesn't have."

Sark considered her words for a long moment, as did I. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked finally.

"Because the formula Sloane already injected Sydney with is re-writing her genetic code as we speak. He needs three vials to finish the process; he only needed one to start it."

"So you're telling me this to protect Sydney."

"She is my daughter." Irina replied. "Protecting her is my highest priority." Suddenly she turned to face Sark, abandoning all pretence that they were strangers. "I want you to let her go back to the CIA, Julian. I don't care what deal you made with her – the CIA are her friends and family. And right now, they're the only ones that can save her."

"Shouldn't that be my decision, Mom?" I asked as I walked up to the bench.

Sark smirked at me as Irina carefully hid her surprise. She had believed Sark had come alone and wasn't prepared to deal with me. "Sydney…" she began, but I cut her off.

"I don't want to hear it, Mom." I said. "And when I quit the CIA, I meant it. I'm not going back."

"You have no choice!" Irina snapped, as angry as I'd ever seen her. "The CIA are the only ones that can help you! I don't have the resources and the only other person with enough knowledge about Rambaldi is Sloane!"

"There's always a choice." I said softly.

Irina's eyes glittered with anger. "You don't know what the formula is capable of doing…"

"I think I do!" I snapped back. "You're not the one living with this! And forgive me if I'm not eager to go running back to people who find it so easy to betray me!"

Irina looked surprised for a second time, but it was only a second before the smirk slid across her face. "So, you found out about the second half of the prophecy." She turned to glance between Sark and me. "That's why you're suddenly working together."

"And I thought it was because we're the best." Sark said.

"We are." I smirked at him. Then I turned to Irina. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I actually believe in Rambaldi."

Irina arched an eyebrow. "Then why are you trying so hard to destroy him?"

"I'm trying to destroy those who are trying to destroy me." I corrected. "Destroying Rambaldi's works is just a way I can do that."

Behind Irina, I saw Sark smirking. He knew the truth – he knew about Isabella's diary, about the memories, about Sloane. Irina regarded me for a long moment. "I see a lot of myself in you, Sydney." She said softly. "But I also see a lot of Jack."

Just like that, I knew the meeting was over. Irina had fulfilled whatever urge or sense of duty that had compelled her to warn us. As Sark and I turned to leave, she spoke again. "Are you going back to the CIA?"

I turned and gave her a mysterious half-smile; the same smile she had given me so many times while in CIA custody. The one that said: Maybe. But I'm never going to tell you.

* * *

I closed my eyes and sank down into the passenger seat as Sark headed for the airport. I still felt a bit overwhelmed by everything Irina had told us – and the fear was back. "We'll find a way to…" Sark broke of his soft reassurance to glance sharply in the rear-view mirror.

I straightened immediately. "We're being followed." Sark said, before cursing softly. "Hang on."

The car accelerated as Sark began weaving in and out of the traffic. He darted through the cars around us expertly, keeping an eye on our pursuers through the rear-view mirror all the while. "The Covenant?" I asked him softly.

"I believe so." Sark replied. "I don't think it's the CIA."

I nodded, watching the cars behind us through the side mirror, until I spotted the silver sedan that was following us. There wasn't much I could do, so I kept me eye on the sedan and tried to work out who was in the car. I think it was only two men. But, just in case, I slipped my gun into my lap.

"Do you think they were watching Irina?" I asked a little while later.

"I would have been." Sark replied, tension in his tone, but otherwise appearing as calm as ever.

The car screeched around a corner just in time for us to see a truck pull out in front of us, blocking the narrow street. Judging by the man dressed in black who had been driving, this wasn't an accident. Sark slammed on the breaks and turned the car, pushing me down in my seat at the same second the man opened fire with an automatic rifle.

The sedan that had been following us, screeched to a halt behind us, preventing our escape that way. Sark slammed the car into reverse anyway, ramming the car behind us into the wall, even as bullets raked the bonnet. Accelerating forwards again, Sark drove straight at the gunman, forcing him to dive out of the way, before swinging sharply to the right and heading through the narrow entrance to the parking garage beside us.

"Are you alright?" Sark asked me with a quick, concerned glance in my direction.

"I'm fine." I replied with a quick reassuring smile.

We raced upwards, searching for another way out. Sark squealed to a halt on the roof when we ran out of road. I flung open my door and staggered out, knowing we had to abandon the car. Sark was right behind me. I glanced around hurriedly, panic coiling in my gut and they tyre squeals coming from the floor below told me our pursuers were coming.

Spotting a fire escape on the next building over, I glanced at Sark. "Come on!" I said.

I sprinted to the edge of the roof, grateful the buildings were so close together. Running was a little awkward and I cursed myself on not picking more appropriate footwear, but I had run in heels enough times that it wasn't really a problem. As soon as I reached the edge, I leapt, flinging myself towards the fire escape on the other building and about a floor below us. I landed with a heavy crash and rolled forwards, but still felt the painful jolt to my knees and ankles.

Scrambling to me feet, I immediately kicked open the door in front of me as Sark landed behind me. Bullets whizzed past us and pinged off the metal as Sark and I raced inside, slamming the door shut behind us to stop our pursuers getting a clear shot. The building seemed to be an abandoned office building and for a second, I was grateful we had ended up on the outskirts of the city.

"We need to find a way out of here." I said, even as Sark and I raced towards the stairwell.

Sark didn't reply, so I glanced at him. He nodded once, his cell in his hand and already dialling. He spoke curtly into the phone, in French, briefly talking to the person on the other end, before turning back to me. "I warned our pilot." He said. "There's an apartment we can use if we can get to the other side of the city."

I nodded, slowing to a walk as we hit the ground floor. My heart was pounding and my breath came in pants, both from the exertion and the adrenaline. My gun was in my hand before I really thought about it, and with a glance at Sark, I noticed his was too. It was possible one or more of our pursuers were inside the building by now, but I doubted it.

"Any ideas how to get to the other side of the city?" I asked, warily scanning the offices around us as we continued on.

"Well, we could try the train." Sark said mildly.

I shot him a look that was half-way between amusement and annoyance. "The train, huh?"

Sark smirked. "I believe there's a station a few blocks from here."

By now we had reached one the building's side doors, which was unfortunately locked. I sighed when I saw the rusty lock and glanced at Sark. "Did you bring any lock picks? Because…"

Sark simply reached out and yanked the lock, which came away in his hand. "…we don't need them." I finished lamely.

Sark smirked smugly at me, before quietly opening the door a crack. I almost laughed when I saw what was on the other side. Our pursuers had parked there now battered-looking sedan right in front of the building…and were heading around the other side! And even better, the dolts had left the keys in the ignition! "Idiots!" I muttered and Sark grinned at me.

Together, we crept out cautiously, just in case there were more goons out there and headed for the sedan. At the sound of the engine and doors slamming, the goons raced outside with surprised shouts. But it was too late – Sark and I were already racing away.

I laughed in delight at our daring escape. "Damn it, we are good!" I grinned.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Sark replied.

I opened my mouth to reply, when a curious feeling came over me – just like it had when Sloane had tried to inject me with the formula a second time. Intense pain followed and I bit back a scream. My gun clattered to the floor from my now loose grip. Sark glanced over at me. "Syd? Syd!"

I bit back another scream as the pain got worse. "Hang on!" Sark told me. "Oh, please love. Just hold on!"

I tried my best to do as he asked, really I did, but I felt my limbs begin to spasm uncontrollably, before everything faded to black.

* * *

Los Angeles

_"Guess this is it, then." Sark said, knowing this was only the quiet before the storm._

_"Yeah." I agreed in the same flat tone. "Guess it is."_

_In the silence that followed, I spared a glance at him. His clothes were dirty and torn just like mine. He wore only his black pants and white shirt now, the holster around his shoulders clearly visible. His blond hair was as tousled as ever, but his piercing blue eyes held the same anguish I felt._

_"Funny." He said. "I always knew you'd be with me when I died, Bristow. I just always thought you would be the one pulling the trigger."_

_I tried to smile softly, but I think it came out more of a grimace. "Life doesn't always give you what you want."_

_The words echoed between us, as we were both facing the truth of them. We were going to die. We knew that. It was finally inevitable. This time we couldn't escape. We didn't want to die, not now, not after everything. But, like I said, life doesn't always give you what you want._

_"To our future." Sark toasted with a shot of vodka. "What's left of it, anyway."_

_"No." I said, raising my own shot glass. "To our pasts. Let them remember us as we were. Unstoppable."_

_Sark gave a faint smile. "I'll drink to that."_

_I drank the contents of the glass in one swallow, the vodka burning a path down my throat as it followed all the others. It wasn't enough to dull the realisation, but it was enough to give me courage to face my death, head held high. I would be strong til the end. They would never break me._

_It was then that we heard pounding on the stairs outside the building. They were coming. I put down my shot glass and stared at Sark, trying to stop the tears gathering in my eyes. He gathered me in his arms and I could see the same pain and sadness in his eyes. Cupping my face in his hands, he gave me a bittersweet kiss full of passion and desperation. We both new this would be our last._

_Tears were slipping down my face as we broke apart. "I love you." I whispered brokenly. "Always…"_

_"…and forever." Sark finished. "I love you too."_

_He wiped my tears away as a tear slipped down his face as well. The sound of the footsteps getting louder broke our attention and I drew my gun. Except, somehow, it wasn't a gun anymore, but a sword. Instead of heavy and unwieldy, like I had expected, the sword fit into my palm like it was made for it. It was in that same moment, that I realised the torn remains of a skirt were twisting around my legs and I wore a corset. Glancing at Sark, I noticed he held a sword too, instead of a gun._

_"If I'm going to die today," I said, completely unable to control the words that seemed to flow from my mouth. "Then I'm going to take as many of them with me as I can."_

_The sensation was rather like the dream memories of Isabella, but I knew this was different. This wasn't just a memory, but a twisted dream. Somehow Sark and I had taken Isabella and Edward's place, and even more strangely, we were facing men with guns. I somehow just _knew_ that._

_"Let them see us for who we really are." Sark agreed. "Let them fear us."_

_I pulled Sark forward for a hard, brief kiss before I pulled back and wiped my face. I straightened my shoulders. It was time. "See you in hell, love." I said._

_"Not if I see you first." Sark replied._

_I moved off then, going towards the door and taking cover where I could. I knew Sark was doing the same on the opposite side and resisted looking at him. I knew if I did I was likely to burst into tears at the injustice of it all. We had only just found each other and now we would loose each other again. Just like before. Just like Isabella and Edward._

_I can't explain how I knew, but something told me that Isabella and Edward had been torn from each other as brutally as Sark and I were about to be. It was one of the few things that made sense in this twisted world, were swords were guns and everything felt strange._

_I glanced back behind me and look in the sight of our last sanctuary. The two shot glasses still sat next to the almost empty vodka bottle on top of an upturned old crate. The rickety crate stood in front of a sagging brown couch where Sark and I had made love for the last time in the early hours of this morning. The rest of the large room was empty apart from the narrow pillars that kept up the floor above us. Pillars Sark and I now knelt behind, our swords held ready._

_And the suddenly, the familiar grip of a gun was in my hand again. I groaned, almost as if I were in pain, and I shook my head. What was going on?_

_By the time the door burst open, I was feeling more in control. I aimed carefully and fired, shooting three of the men in the head before they could react. Every shot I fired, I fired to kill. If I was going down, then they were coming with me._

_The gunfight was short and violent. An automatic pistol was no match for semi-automatic rifles, no matter what the movies say. Pain tore at my arm, throwing off my aim. By the time the bullets tore into my leg and stomach, I had almost run out of ammo anyway. I lay there on the floor, feeling the blood gathering in a hot, sticky pool beneath me. My whole body felt as if it were on fire._

_Sloane walked towards me, gun in hand. He stopped above me and pointed the gun at me head. "You could have been so much." He told me._

_"I am more than you could ever be." I snapped back, my voice harsh with pain._

_Then I used the last of my strength to raise my own gun and shoot him through the head with my last bullet. He died with a shocked look on his face. I smirked slightly, but broke off into a coughing fit. The wet sound told me what I already knew – one of my lungs was punctured. I felt a little blood trickle out the side of my mouth and knew I was dying, even as the pain began to fade._

_I turned my face, wanting to see Sark one last time. Gunfire echoed outside and I realised someone had come to rescue us. But it was too late. Sark lay a little way away, bleeding from two bullet wounds to his chest. His shirt was soaked with his blood and I couldn't help the tears. Was he already dead..?_

_I cried out in joy as he turned his head towards me. He wasn't dead yet! I smiled at him, not caring about the pain. Something warm touched my hand and I looked down before I realised it was his hand. I squeezed it, or tried, but my strength was leaving me. My vision faded as I struggled to keep my eyes open. I had to stay conscious. I had to stay with Sark._

_"I love you." Sark whispered hoarsely._

_"I love you too." I whispered back._

_I saw Sark bite back a groan as his eyes closed and I knew he was almost gone. But then so was I. I let my own eyes flicker shut and as the darkness swallowed me up. I felt Sark's hand in mine and knew that no one would ever be able to separate us again._

_Suddenly words drifted to me in that floating darkness. It was Isabella. I was sure of it. "You must be strong, Sydney. Please hold on. You must stop him or he will kill you both."_

* * *

I gasped and snapped awake, my heart pounding from the surreal dream. I lay there panting for a second, my fuzzy brain trying to sort through the sensations and sounds all around me. I appeared to be lying down in a somewhat comfortable bed, although there was a curious pain in my arm and whatever I was wearing felt scratchy and strange.

As the sounds got louder, I recognised a rhythmic beeping and the sound of cars driving by in the distance. A short burst of a police siren sounded and the faded away. Where was I? My vision was still a little blurry, so I tried to wait as patiently as I could until it cleared. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Glancing about as soon as I could focus, I spotted the electronic monitor beside me even as I recognised the figure in the chair sitting beside my bed. Why the fuck was I in a hospital? And where was Sark?

"Sydney, you're awake." My father said as he straightened in his chair, sounding relieved.

"Where am I?" I demanded, my voice harsh and my throat sore.

"The Stafford Naval Hospital." My father answered. There was pain in his brown eyes, just as I was sure there was anger in mine. He got out of his chair a little stiffly, and reached out to grab a cup. He held it to my lips. "Drink some water, it'll help. You're safe for the moment."

"For the moment?" I asked, after I had drunk some water. It had helped a little, but not much.

My father paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words…or how much I should know. "Just tell me!" I growled.

"A deal was made on your behalf." My father explained. "I don't know how much you can remember, but you had a seizure and fell unconscious. You were brought back to the CIA for treatment. The doctors have been trying for the last two weeks to reverse the changes Rambaldi's formula has made."

I zoned out a little as my father's words echoed around in my head. _You were brought back to the CIA_… There was only one man who could have done that, and he wouldn't have unless there was no other choice. "Where is he?" I demanded, interrupting whatever my father had been trying to explain.

"Who?" My father asked. "Vaughn?"

"Julian."

My father gave me a confused look. "Sark." I amended.

As his name, my father's expression immediately darkened. I didn't think this was a good sign. "Sark is in NSC custody." My father answered finally.

"NSC custody?" I echoed. "Why does the NSC have him?"

"Because he freely gave himself into their custody." Dad replied, his voice equal parts sceptical and admiring.

Suddenly it all made sense. I felt tears gather in my eyes at the price Sark had paid for me. Irina had been right when she had told us only the CIA could reverse the effects of Rambaldi's formula. And Sark had turned himself in, giving up his hard won freedom, so they would – it was the only reason I could think of that I wasn't behind bars.

"And his terms?" I asked.

Again, my father paused before answering. I don't think he liked talking about it. "Sark agreed to tell us anything we wanted to know in exchange for treating you and allowing you to freely leave the country. His only exception was he wouldn't discuss you."

I felt a band constrict around my heart at his words. I knew it was silly, but somehow I felt as if a white knight had finally charged in to rescue me. He might not carry a sword and prefer Armani to armour, but no one had ever quite rescued me like Sark. I vowed in that moment to do everything in my power to rescue him in return. I knew just how much Sark hated to be caged.

"I want to see him." I said.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Sydney. The doctors weren't able to reverse all the changes and you're still weak…"

"I want to see him!" I growled.

By the anguish reflected in my father's eyes, I knew he'd do as I wanted. He still felt guilty for keeping the prophecy from me, I knew that, even though he would do it again if he had to. I knew I might regret using my father's feelings of guilt like this, but I just wanted Sark out. I'd worry about the rest later.

My father sighed. "I'll see what I can do." He said. "Try to get some sleep."

I gave my father a slight smile as I watched him leave, grateful for his help even though I was still angry at him for keeping the truth from me, before settling back in my bed. I could see the guards posted outside the door and knew it would be stupid and futile to try anything rash. All I could do was plan what the hell I was going to do to get Sark out.

* * *

Loud, angry voices woke me from my doze a little while later. "Agent Vaughn, you can't go in there!" a nurse was hissing angrily. "She's sleeping!"

I could quite hear Vaughn's reply, but I could tell he was angry by his tone. He barged into my room, just as I was easing myself up into a sitting position. I raised an eyebrow at the intrusion and kept my expression as neutral as I could. His angry gaze drilled into mine, but he waited until the door had closed behind him before he spoke.

"How could you go to him, Sydney!" he demanded. "Sark of all people! He's a wanted terrorist, for God's sake!"

I kept my expression cool as I returned his gaze. "I went to Sark because he was in a position to help me take down the Covenant."

"So it was just a business deal?" Some of the anger left Vaughn's eyes.

"In the beginning, yes." I replied.

"In the beginning?!" Vaughn snapped. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

I shot Vaughn a dark glance, my anger growing. "That's for me to know!" I snapped.

"Sydney…" he growled.

"What? You have no claim over me, Vaughn. What I do is my business alone!"

"Even when you betray everything we're fighting for?" Vaughn asked, his eyes still angry, but his tone softer.

I sat back on the pillows, anger battling with shock at his words. How could Vaughn ask me that? "If you think I could ever do that, then maybe you never knew me at all, Vaughn." I said quietly.

Vaughn seemed to realise what he had said, but I didn't let him say whatever he had been going to say. "Besides, what has the CIA ever done for me except betray me?" I snapped.

Wincing, Vaughn realised that I knew what had happened on that long ago day on the roof top. Or at least, it felt such a long day ago. In reality, it had only been 5 short weeks since my world had completely changed – two of which I had spent unconscious. I'm not sure if that made me feel better or worse.

"Syd…" Vaughn began, but I cut him off again.

"I'm going to do everything I can to destroy the Covenant. You can either help me or stay out of my way."

Vaughn's answering look was sharp. "For God's sake, Syd! You're wanted by the FBI and the CIA! You are in no position to make demands!"

I shot him a cold glance, wondering what right he had to be so angry…and why I had ever found him so attractive. Surely he hadn't been this judgemental when we'd been together? If there was one thing I knew about this life, it was that there was more to it that 'good vs. bad' or 'black vs. white'.

"I'm not making demands, Vaughn." I said coldly. "I'm telling you what I intend to do."

We were interrupted from arguing further by the same irritated nurse who I think had argued with Vaughn earlier. "Agent Vaughn, I'll have to ask you to leave." She said. "Miss Bristow needs her rest."

Gratefully, if a little cowardly, I gave the nurse a small smile and she seemed to nod slightly in return. I don't know how much she knew about me, or how much the CIA had told her, but I was grateful for her help in kicking Vaughn out. I'm not sure I could stand to be in the same room with him for much longer without strangling him.

Vaughn left in as close to a huff as I had ever seen him. The nurse made a show of checking the monitors I was hooked up to for a moment, before turning to me and giving me a careful eye. "There's someone else who wants to see you." She said.

"Do you know who?" I asked, wondering if I was going to have to face another confrontation right now.

"He says his name is Marshall." The nurse replied.

I couldn't seem to stop the smile that slide over my face at the news. Marshall was here? Oh, how I could use the enthusiasm and gentle loyalty of the CIA's best tech right now! At least, I hoped he was still my friend. Had he been hurt by my leaving too?

Nodding to the nurse, I smiled again. "I'd like to see him if I could." I said.

"Only for a few minutes." The nurse replied, bustling out of the room again.

A second later a familiar head poked around the door. Marshall hadn't changed a bit – his hair was still tousled, his clothes still rumpled and a look of trepidation mixed with joy on his face. "Syd?" he asked.

"Come in, Marshall." I said warmly.

Marshall smiled a little shyly, before coming into the room and sitting somewhat nervously in the chair beside my bed. "I, uh…didn't tell anyone I was coming here, you know, to talk to you. Just in case you wondered. I didn't think they'd let me come if they knew…"

I cut Marshall's babbling off with a smile. "I'm glad you came."

Marshall gave me a delighted smile – it lit up his whole face. "Why wouldn't I? You're my friend, Syd."

"Even if I'm working with a wanted terrorist?" I asked, not sure why or if I wanted to know the answer.

"Well, I kinda think you working with Mr. Sark is cool…" Marshall said with a conspiratorial grin.

Cool? I loved Marshall, as the tech really was a true friend, but cool? I never expected Sark and my deal would ever be called cool.

"…and, you know, romantic." Marshall finished a little shyly.

"Romantic?" I echoed, surprised for the second time in as many seconds.

Marshall nodded. "Yeah." He said. "I mean, he always used to give you those looks back when we were, you know…" he paused to look from side to side, "…working at SD-6." He finished in a whisper.

"It's one of the reasons I never believed them when they said he was evil…" he added absently. "That and because he, well, saved my life."

I blinked for a second, never having known that Sark had once saved Marshall's life. I'd heard rumours back at SD-6, but dismissed them as just, well, rumours. I had always known there was more to Marshall that met the eye, but the depth of his loyalty surprised even me. It was humbling. As for the way Sark had looked at me…well, considering what I knew now, I could imagine it, but I hadn't had a clue back then.

"I brought you a present!" Marshall said excitedly, before giving another furtive glance around the room. "It's not much, but I hope it helps."

Surreptitiously, Marshall handed me a disc. I wanted to look at it or ask Marshall what it was, but something in his expression stopped me. He must have seen my puzzlement, because he leaned forward and gave me a whispered explanation. "To get Sark out."

I blinked in surprise and overwhelming gratitude. "The CIA doesn't deserve you." I told him.

He blushed beet red. "If you're ever in trouble, Marshall, please call me. Find me." I continued. "It doesn't matter who with or why. I'll be there."

"Thank you." Marshall replied softly.

We talked for a few more minutes about more mundane things and I still had a smile on my face when he left. I had yet to get out of here or look at the contents of the disc, but suddenly, I felt as if everything was actually going to be alright.

* * *

I was released three days later. The doctors said I was well enough and that was all Lindsay needed. He was still demanding my immediate arrest, though. Like Dad had told me when I first woke up in the hospital, the doctors had tried their best, but hadn't been able to completely reverse the effects of Rambaldi's formula. What that meant exactly, no one knew for sure, but it shouldn't lead to any problems.

"Sydney?" my father's voice called.

I walked out from the cramped bathroom, where I had been putting the finishing touches on my makeup, at the sound of my name and tossed my makeup bag in the small duffle I had been given. "Dad." I greeted levelly.

My father was back in his black suit and had his 'agent' face on. "The NSC has agreed to let you see Sark, on the condition you are accompanied at all times by two NSC agents."

I nodded to the terms, having half-expected them anyway. I gathered my duffle and fell into step beside him as we left the hospital. My heels made satisfying clicks on the floor. I was dressed back in the outfit I had worn in Beijing; jeans, heeled boots and my leather jacket. I had seen the flicker of surprise in my Dad's eye when I had walked out of the bathroom and I can't say I was disappointed by that.

"Do I know the agents?" I asked, wondering if Lindsay himself would be accompanying me.

"Director Lindsay and Agent Reed." My father answered.

So I had been right. Lindsay was coming – not that I'd expected him to pass up the opportunity. Vaughn's wife was also someone I had expected to be there. She was Lindsay's right hand woman, after all. And if she was there, so would Vaughn. Oh, well. I suppose he'd just have to keep that anger of his inside…and I didn't mind the fact he would see me in my nice new image either. About time everyone realised that Sydney Bristow had a hell of a lot more attitude and spunk that they thought!

"I expected as much." I told my father.

The drive to the CIA offices in downtown LA was silent. I knew my father was trying to find the right words to discuss what had happed with the second half of the prophecy, but I wasn't interested in hearing it. I know that sounded harsh, but I just didn't want to have to explain, for what felt the millionth time, that I preferred people to just tell me the truth.

"Sydney…" he began once the car had been parked in the underground garage.

"Don't, Dad." I stopped him. "I know you believe you kept the truth from me for the best, but I hate it when people lie to me or hide the truth. You, of all people, know that."

The words came out angrier than I had intended and I caught the look of guilt and regret pass through my father's eyes. "I do know that, Sydney." He said. "What I actually wanted to say was that I'm sorry that I didn't tell you in the beginning."

"You were?" I said, surprised. This didn't sound like my father.

"You're a lot stronger than even I gave you credit for, Sydney. I…I didn't really ever acknowledge that. I should have. If I had, I would have understood you were strong enough to deal with knowing about the second half of the prophecy too."

I blinked back tears at my father's words; I could tell they were straight from the heart. "Thanks, Dad." I said.

We climbed out the car and made our way inside the building. I caught the looks of undisguised hatred and anger coming from the agents inside, but I just smirked at them like Sark would have and ignored it. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest choice to mimic Sark in the middle of a CIA office, but it felt damn good!

Lindsay and Lauren were waiting for us by the elevators that led down to the cells. I didn't say a word as I looked at them rather coldly. Lindsay seemed to almost be vibrating with anger at my presence, while Lauren no longer had to hide her hatred of me. It was kind of nice, I had to admit, to finally have them looking at me like they really felt, instead of hiding behind masks because I was the CIA's golden girl and they couldn't afford to make me an enemy…oh, hang on. Too late. They already had.

Vaughn stood just off to the side, near Lauren and I could see his eyebrows rise when he caught sight of my outfit. I hid a grin. I knew my jeans were tighter than the ones I used to wear and the makeup was definitely heavier. I really didn't look like the straight-laced CIA agent everyone thought they knew. I loved the feeling that gave me. Great boost to the ego too, when I caught him checking out my ass.

"Shall we?" I asked with a quirk of an eyebrow and walked to the elevator.

"Let me a few things straight, Bristow." Lindsay snapped furiously. "You are not here to talk to your partner or assure him that you are going to get him out. You are only here to encourage Mr. Sark to be more cooperative. I will remove you from the room the second I think you are acting out of line. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly." I replied. "You didn't need to shout."

I hid another grin when Lindsay looked like he was about to have a heart attack on the spot. Oh, if only he would. We got into the lift, all five of us and travelled in tense silence down to Sark's cell. I took the time to school my expression into one of neutrality. It would be tough, to see Sark on the wrong side of the glass and know the only reason he was there was because of me. I wanted so much just to bust him out right now, but I knew I couldn't.

Sark was sitting on his threadbare mattress when I entered the room. He didn't look up for a long moment and I could see the tension in his shoulders. My heart ached at the sight. When he did glance up, I saw the shock pass through his eyes. He hadn't expected to see me and when his glance flicked to Lindsay and Lauren, his eyes turned back into the ice I knew…and loved.

"Hello, Sydney." He greeted with a smirk, getting up from his bunk and walking up to the glass.

"Julian." I replied, wanting nothing more in that moment that to sink into his arms.

Behind me, Lindsay cleared his through. Sark gave him a curious and expectant expression, as if he were waiting for Lindsay to say something. I spoke instead. "Director Lindsay would like me to encourage you to be cooperative with the NSC." I said mildly, belying the outrage I felt.

"I just bet he does." Sark replied, his eyes never once betraying any emotion what-so-ever. Sark was back to being the assassin the world thought he was and I grinned at him. I was the only one in the room that saw beyond that…and knew the truth of the man behind the mask.

We stared at each other in silence for a moment and I tried to fix ever detail in my memory; the knowing smirk, the ice of his eyes, the proud bearing of his shoulders and the tension that seemed to ripple through the air. "I'm afraid Director Lindsay has informed me that I'm not allowed to talk to you or assure you that I'm going to get you out." I told him after a moment. "I can only encourage you to be more helpful."

Sark's smirk became slightly larger at my words, understanding the message behind the words. But then, it wasn't really all that hard. I wasn't trying to be subtle here. My play on words did not go unnoticed. "I told you this would be a bad idea!" he growled at Dad, before raising his voice and glaring at me. "Alright, Bristow. Time's up."

I didn't take my eyes from Sark's. "Don't ever forget what we had, Julian." I said softly as Lindsay strode forward. "Always and forever."

"Bristow!" he snapped, dragging me by the arm to the door. My father's expression darkened and I saw the effort it took for him not to rip Lindsay's arm off mine. "You have three hours to leave the country, Bristow." Lindsay growled, slapping my passport into my hand. "Any longer than that and the CIA will lock you up in a cage just down the hall from Mr. Sark."

"What makes you think you can catch me?" I asked, a smirk and a raised eyebrow directed at Lindsay. It really irritated him. "After all, Julian is far better than you and he could barely lay a finger on me if I didn't want him to."

I smirked wider when I saw the anger grow on Lindsay's face – and on Vaughn's when he caught the implications of my words. I shot him a knowing smile, just to provoke him some more. It probably wasn't very wise, but the new Sydney Bristow seemed fond of playing with fire. I turned back to face Sark, who had heard every word.

"Always and forever, Julian." I repeated.

Then I sauntered back out of the room and headed out of the country. I didn't need to look back to know Sark was smirking. Nor did I have to look at him to know he knew exactly what I meant…and that I'd be coming to get him very soon.

To Be Continued…


	11. Trade Off

Author's Note: Just a quick disclaimer to say I had nothing to do with writing any of the episodes of Alias, so the quotes from the episode Full Disclosure are not mine. There's a spoiler alert for that episode too.

Cheeky.

---

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Eleven:

Galway

I flew to Europe an hour after seeing Sark. As soon as I got back to Sark's house on the cliffs, having hidden my tracks as best as I could so the CIA wouldn't track me, which I had been sure had been Lindsay's plan, I went straight to Sark's laptop and inserted the disc Marshall had given me.

The contents made me gasp, grin and vow to buy Marshall what ever his heart desired. The disc contained a list of three Rambaldi artefacts the CIA would give up anything to get their hands on; not only which artefacts they were, but they locations, what they looked like and who had them. It would be hard to get my hands on them, but I wouldn't have even come close if it wasn't for Marshall's little present. With those three artefacts in my possession, the CIA would even be willing to trade Julian Sark to get their hands on them.

Liam came into the room, seeking me out when I hadn't come to see him. "How are you feeling?" he asked me softly.

I turned to greet him, the grin still on my face. "Fine." I said, and saw the confusion cross his eyes. I had no doubt Sark had told him exactly what he planned to do and my reaction wasn't what he expected. I waved it away, before turning the screen so he could see. "A gift from my friend Marshall. If we can get our hands on these the CIA will be tripping over itself to give us Julian."

Now it was Liam's turn to grin. "That's amazing." He said.

"Oh, he is." I agreed.

At that moment, my cell phone rang, interrupting us. I answered cautiously, wondering if the CIA was calling to check that I had actually left the US. They weren't.

"Hello, Sydney." Bennetti greeted me.

"Bennetti." I replied.

"Have you been reading the diary?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Good." Bennetti said. "Good."

I frowned. "What is it, Bennetti?" I asked. "You didn't just call to check up on my reading."

"No, I didn't." Bennetti agreed. "I heard about Mr. Sark's unfortunate incarceration and wanted to offer my help."

"Thank you." I said. "But it's an awful risk."

"My family have spent the last few centuries trying to stopped Rambaldi's depraved agenda. Believe me when I say this is not the first risk we've taken." Bennetti told me. "Now, what can I help you with? I must admit, I have never broken anyone out of CIA custody before…"

"I'm not going to break him out through force." I replied. "It's damn difficult and they would expect it."

"So, what's the plan?" Bennetti asked, sounding both curious and amused.

"Thanks to a friend of mine, I have the locations of three Rambaldi artefacts the CIA desperately wants." I answered. "I was thinking of a trade."

Bennetti chuckled. "I'm sure the CIA will enjoy that." He said. "What are the artefacts?"

"Something called _L'orologio_, the Devil's Hand and the formula to _Anima del Cuore_."

"What if I said I could get the Devil's Hand for you?"

I blinked, then smiled, although Bennetti could see neither. "I would say thank you." I told him.

Bennetti chuckled again. "Shall we meet in Paris, then? 6pm, in two days time?" he said. "There's a little café I like. _La petite Hantise_."

"I'll see you there." I answered.

"Well, until then, Sydney." Bennetti farewelled and hung up.

"Until then." I agreed softly.

When I flipped my cell shut, I caught Liam's curious look. He had patiently waited for me to finish my conversation before asking any questions. I smiled before he could open his mouth, explaining my conversation. "That was Bennetti." I said. "He offer to get the Devil's Hand for us."

"Can we trust him?" Liam asked.

I nodded. "Bennetti was the one who gave me Isabella's diary. He doesn't want Rambaldi to succeed any more than we do."

Liam nodded, accepting my answer. "The artefact called _L'orologio_ is actually a 15th Century Italian clock." He said. "It's owned by a rather important informant of the CIA, who recently allowed the clock to be displayed by a museum in Berlin. The CIA can't touch it because they need the intel their informant gives them too much."

I smirked. "Pity for them." I said. "You think you can retrieve the clock on your own?"

Nodding thoughtfully, Liam raised an eyebrow. "You're not coming with?"

I shook my head. "We can't let anyone figure out what we're doing until it's too late. So we hit them simultaneously, stealing the clock and the formula at the same time."

"Makes sense." Liam agreed. "The formula's going to be difficult though."

"I know." I grimaced. "What do we know about the League?"

The League was an organisation that was rather like the Alliance had been. The group was made up of men and women from many different countries, each as cunning and ruthless as each other. They dabbled in weapons dealing, drugs, gambling and money laundering along with selling secrets. A general multi-purpose evil organisation, really. The founding members also happened to be Rambaldi fanatics and had several important artefacts hidden away all over the world. According to Marshall, the formula for _Anima del Cuore_ (which, interestingly, translates to 'heart's blood') was hidden in one of their safe houses in St. Petersburg.

"Not much…" Liam trailed off. "Hang on."

He consulted the laptop screen for a moment, before tapping a few keys and bringing up another – this one appeared to be a file on the League themselves. "Maybe if we use a distraction…" Liam muttered.

"A distraction?" I echoed, eyebrows raised.

With a smile, Liam looked up. "We need some way to force the League to move the formula. If they do that, they'll take it to one of two places. And if we can snarl the traffic…the formula should end up in a little church on the outskirts of the city. A perfect place for an ambush."

I nodded. It was a good plan. "I could tell them the Covenant are going to raid their place and try to steal the formula."

Liam grinned. "They'll check, but I think I can manage something."

"Just one problem." I said. "How are we going to mess with the traffic?"

Liam considered the problem for a second. "I could hack into the traffic lights and set them off." He suggested.

I grinned. "That'll work!"

It took us three more hours, but Liam and I managed to put together the rest of the plan and gather all the blueprints, equipment and intel we needed to pull this off. Liam even managed to write a programme to set the traffic lights in St. Petersburg off just when we needed them. I couldn't keep in my delight. In a few short days, Sark would be out. And then…Sloane had better watch out!

---

St. Petersburg

I shivered slightly in the cold night air of the Russian winter and drew my long black coat a little tighter around me. As I was posing as an associate of Mr. Sark (which I was – we _were_ partners), I was dressed to kill; black designer suit underneath my coat, black leather gloves, diamonds at my ears and, of course, my funky heeled boots. My hair hung loose over my shoulders and my face was impassive. I looked just like a woman Sark would employ – beautiful, professional and deadly.

I hadn't been able to keep the smile off my face when I had first put on the outfit. Although I was playing a part, letting people assume I was something I wasn't, it was also the truth in a way. I was a professional and a damn good spy; I had survived many situations and dangers others hadn't. I was also an attractive woman – I played off that fact enough that it wasn't ego, but something I could use. As for deadly – if you pushed me hard enough I would take you down, no matter the odds. It had been a welcome and liberating feeling. Now that someone wasn't telling me who to be or how to act, I was slowly discovering who I was. And I had to admit, I really liked her.

Movement caught my eye, snapping me back to the present. A dark sedan had pulled up next to the freezing and draughty warehouse where I had arranged the meeting. Five-star it might not be, but it kept the snow off and, most importantly, it had several easy escape routes if things went to shit. I watched three men enter the warehouse and approach the small table I had placed in the centre of the cold, cavernous space. I let my expression turn cold – they were late. "Gentlemen." I greeted, my tone hard.

Two of the men sat down at the table, their arrogant expressions and carefully combed hair proving they were just mid-ranked henchmen that thought themselves higher than they were, and not the real men behind the League. The third remained standing behind the other two, clearly their bodyguard. The bodyguard, however, gave me a wary but respectful look, obviously noting in an instant that I was armed – and knew how to use it. I returned the same curtesy, absently wishing I was dealing with him instead of the two assholes he was protecting.

"I don't appreciate being kept waiting." I said, by way of opening, my tone still diamond hard. "The information I have is far more important to you than it is to me."

"That's all well and good, Miss…" one of them, a sliver-haired man with a French accent replied in a condescending tone.

"Bristow." I supplied, trying not to smirk as the two men jerked in their seat.

My gaze flicked to the bodyguard, but he, while tense, did not seem surprised at my revelation. It seemed he had been briefed on the situation while the other two had not. I began to re-evaluate my earlier assumptions of him. Perhaps he was not all he seemed.

"As I told your employers when I arranged the meeting," I said, stressing the word 'employers' so they would understand that I knew just who I was dealing with, "I have severed all ties with the CIA."

"Even your father?" the soft question came from the bodyguard, earning him a quick, but fearful look from the silver-haired man.

I allowed my lips to curve into a knowing smile, showing the man I knew he was more than a bodyguard. "Yes, even my father." I replied.

That wasn't exactly true, but I wasn't just going to blurt out the truth, now was I?

"How do we know we can trust you?" the silver-haired man's younger companion snapped, obviously trying to regain control of the conversation.

"You don't." I replied bluntly. "But your employers were obviously willing to take the chance."

The silver-haired man regarded me with cold arrogance. "Your information?"

I picked up the briefcase resting at my feet and strode towards the table. Swinging the briefcase up onto the table, I snapped open the locks and drew out a file, before slapping it down on the table in front of the men. "The Covenant is going to raid your complex and try to steal the formula for _Anima del Cuore_."

The silver-haired man and his younger companion looked through the folder which contained all the fake intel Liam and I had managed to collect over the last two days. We'd done our job well – I knew it looked damn convincing. The bodyguard, however, didn't seem too concerned about the folder. Instead, he fixed me with a piercing look and arched an eyebrow. "Damning information indeed." He said. "What I don't understand is why you and Mr. Sark are so willing to part with it. You have yet to ask for anything in return."

I considered my next words carefully, knowing I needed to convince this man that my offer was genuine – even though it wasn't. "Neither Mr. Sark or I have any love or allegiance towards the Covenant." I said. "In this case, we thought the old saying might be true – the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"So you want to destroy the Covenant and you're using us to do it." The bodyguard surmised.

"And perhaps having someone owe us a favour in the process." I agreed.

The bodyguard chuckled. "Oh, Sark must be a very persuasive man. I wonder, what did he promise you in order for you to work for him? Many men have tried and failed."

As the man had been speaking, he seemed to straighten and shift. My expression didn't change as I watched him turn from a bodyguard into a confident and powerful agent of the League. Instead of surprising me or shocking me, I had to stop the smile that was threatening at the turn of events. The man standing in front of me was one of the men behind the League; a junior partner perhaps, but the real deal all the same. And if the League were willing to send him, they were going to accept my intel.

"It can't have been money or power. There would have been better offers than his." The man continued. "So what tempted the great Sydney Bristow to betray the country she had served so faithfully?"

I just smirked. "Something only Mr. Sark could offer." I said, and damned if I didn't see amusement in his eyes as I refused to answer his question.

"Well, Miss Bristow," the agent said. "The League thanks you for the information and we'll be glad to return the favour one day."

He strode up to the table, grabbed the file from his companions and jerked his head back to the car. With stiff postures, the two got up and left. I was glad I didn't have to spend anymore time with those assholes. "Until next, Miss Bristow." The agent farewelled.

I said nothing. If things worked out well, chances were I'd never see this man again. Or if I did, I had a feeling the confrontation would be anything but pleasant. He strode off towards the car and I returned to mine, which was parked behind the other side of the warehouse. Gratefully, I slipped into the much warmer car and slipped out my cell.

"They went for it." I said when Liam picked up on the other end. "I'm heading to the church."

"The traffic has been gridlocked over half of the city for about an hour now." Liam replied. "They'll have no option but to send the formula to the church."

"And straight into our hands." I said. "I'll call you when I have it."

"Give me an hour or two. I'm above the museum right now."

I grinned. Everything was going to plan – hopefully it would stay that way. "Speak to you in two hours, then." I agreed and snapped my phone shut, before starting the car and roaring off into the night.

---

Two hours later, I found myself standing in the shadows near a small, old church on the outskirts of St. Petersburg. I was shivering slightly in the cold, but had changed my outfit into something more suitable for what I was about to do. The combat boots, thick black pants and fur-lined jacket were warmer than my suit had been, but I had been standing out here for a long time. I couldn't afford to let anyone know I was here, which meant standing for a long hour and a half in the snow.

I grinned in delight when two black jeeps finally roared into sight. Right on time.

Watching carefully and remaining hidden, I saw three men get out of the jeeps, guns drawn and looking warily about. One of them was carefully carrying a small case and the other two hustled him quickly into the church. Knowing I had to act quickly, I snuck out of my hiding place, gun drawn and adrenaline thrumming through my blood.

Slipping on silent feet to the back window of the church, I peered inside. Arriving more than an hour ago had its advantages – as well as making sure I wasn't seen, I knew all the ways inside. Carefully, as there was no one in the small room beyond the window, I opened the window and snuck inside, cautious not to let the old window make a sound as I slid it back into place. I crept to the doorway of the room, drawn by the sounds of hushed conversation before.

I paused, questioning how far I was going to go. A few seconds were all it needed to take; burst out into the room and shoot the three men, grabbing the formula before anyone would have a clue what was going on. Not killing them would be harder – there was always a chance they could call for help, recognise who I was. As much as killing repulsed me, there was no option for failure. I needed that formula to rescue Sark and I was not failing in that task. Unbidden, a memory swam into my head…

_My heels clicked loudly on the concrete floor as I entered a large room. A long table stood at one end, and five men and women were seated behind it. Arvin Sloane sat in the centre, an irritating smirk on his face. Next to him sat a beautiful brunette who bore a striking resemblance to Irina – my aunt, Elena Derevko. The man sitting on the other side of Sloane appeared to be smoking a cigar._

_I noticed a man standing in front of the table as I strode across the room, head held high. It was the doctor I had killed in Frankfurt; the man who had spent six months trying to brainwash me. "May I present to you…Julia Thorne?" he said._

_I stopped beside the doctor and faced the panel of the highest ranking members of the Covenant. I recognised the man with the cigar in that moment – McKenas Cole. The former agent of SD-6 how had broken in and tortured Sloane in order to retrieve the ampule designed to read Page 47. How he had come to work for the man he hated, I never knew. Perhaps he had met Elena while working for my mother._

_"Welcome, Miss Thorne." He greeted. "The work you'll be doing for us requires a certain commitment."_

_As he spoke, a man tied to a wheelchair was wheeled into the room. The brown haired man seated in it was average-looking and dressed in denim, similar to a prison uniform. A piece of duct tape covered his mouth and above it, his eyes were wide with fear._

_"Of course." I replied to Cole._

_Cole regarded me carefully. "Who this man is, is not important. What is important is the knife on the table. Use it. Kill this unimportant man."_

_My face carefully hard and neutral, I walked to the table and grabbed the long-bladed knife. I turned to the man in the wheelchair without pause and stepped over to him. As he watched his death stride towards him, he struggled vainly with his bonds, muffled screams coming from behind the tape and his eyes even wider than before._

_I plunged the knife into his chest, nausea rolling though my gut. The man screamed in pain and fear, before it suddenly cut off as I gave the knife a savage twist and pulled it out. It took every scrap of self-control I possessed to keep my expression cold and neutral; as if murdering a man in cold-blood did not affect me in the slightest._

_I turned back to the panel, the bloody knife still held in my fist and my stomach threatening to rebel right then and there. Sloane was smiling evilly at me, as if somehow he was taking credit for turning me into everything I had fought not to be. I stared back, burying my feelings deep and knowing one day I would get my chance for revenge._

I suddenly snapped back to myself with a shudder. Ice seemed to grip my soul as the memory of the first murder I had committed for the Covenant sank into my mind. There had been others, I knew that beyond a doubt, even though I couldn't remember them. I might have killed a man who was dead the second the Covenant grabbed him and mine had only been the hand to carry out the deed – I also knew that if I had not killed him, not made the Covenant believe that I was reprogrammed, I would also have died that day – but it didn't seem to matter. I had killed him, pure and simple. I felt something in me harden at that and with it came a remembered awareness. At least I knew how far I was willing to go now.

I crammed my awakening memories into a corner of my mind to be dealt with later. I focused on the here and now, using my ability to compartmentalise to the fullest. Slowly, even my sense of nausea faded. Taking a silent, calming breath, I squared my shoulders before stepping out from my hiding place, just as the men finished their hushed conversation.

They never stood a chance. I fired three quick shots. Stepping around the now dead men, I knelt to snatch the case, only to discover in annoyance that it was handcuffed to the man who had been carrying it. Fear curled in my gut; the gunshots had alerted the men outside and I had seconds before they burst in. I could already hear the slamming of doors and the pounding of heavy footsteps. Frantically, I dug through the man's pockets, searching for the key. My fingers grasped it a second before the first man entered the room. I shot him as he rain in, still kneeling, and cursed that I had not thought to bar the door.

Running out of options fast, I vainly wished Sark was here to watch my back. It was ridiculous. Considering the reason I was doing this in the first place was because he _wasn't_ with me.

I sprang to my feet and raced towards the door, before taking cover just beside it. I know there would only be about six to eight men to deal with and four were already dead. Two more men burst into the room, instantly spreading out to cover the room with their weapons. They weren't expecting an attack from behind them, however.

I kicked the gun out of the first man's hand, before spinning away as the second man whipped around. His bullet barely missed me. I shot back, my aim far better than his. A fist slammed into my kidney a split second after I had pulled the trigger, sending waves of pain flooding my body. I fell to my knees, my gun dropping from my grip and skidding across the floor. Gritting my teeth, I lashed out with a sweep, sending my attacker crashing to the ground. He twisted as he fell, his hand reaching for the gun he had dropped earlier, even as I went after my own. We fired at the same time. His shot went wide; mine didn't.

Taking a calming breath to slow my pounding heart, I scrambled over to the case, hoping there had been six guards instead of eight. I jerked in surprise when a cell phone went off, my nerves strung tight. I wasn't mine, so I undid the handcuffs and grabbed the case. A quick check confirmed it contained the formula, even as my ears strained for the smallest sound that could prove there were more guards out there. By the time I had slipped back out the window and to my carefully hidden car, I was feeling more in control.

I reached for my cell and dialled Liam's number as I wove through the late night traffic of St. Petersburg, the case safe on the passenger seat. "I have the formula." I told Liam without preamble."

"And I have the clock." Liam replied. "Any problems?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle." I answered. "You?"

"No. Shall I see you back home?"

"In a few days. There's something I have to do first."

"I'll see you in a day or two, then." Liam said. "Stay safe."

"You too." I flipped the phone shut as I made sure I wasn't being followed. Then, with a cold smile, I headed for the airport.

---

Paris

The café, _La petite Hantise_, was cosy and intimate, the sounds of the bustling street outside fading as soon as you walked in the door. I sat at one of the back tables, carefully seated so I could keep an eye on the door and still have an easy way out if needed. The smells of coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air and I debated whether or not to order some food to go with the coffee I was currently sipping.

I was prevented from making a decision by Bennetti's arrival. "Sydney." He greeted, rather warmly.

He was wearing an impeccable grey (and obviously expensive) suit and his dark hair was combed into place. I had a momentary uncomfortable feeling of being underdressed in my jeans, boots and sweater, but I ignored it. "Bennetti." I replied.

He sat down in the chair opposite mine and ordered a cappuccino when the waiter approached. "Is there any way I can get you to call me Gianni?" he asked when we were alone again.

I felt a smile curve my lips. "Perhaps." I answered.

Bennetti chuckled. "Then, I shall have to settle for that." He said, as the waiter brought over his coffee. "I have the…item for you."

"Thank you." I replied. "Did you have any problems?"

"None that I wasn't expecting." Bennetti answered.

I tried to thank him again, but he held up a hand, stopping me. "There's no need to thank me, Sydney." He said. "What you're already doing is thanks enough."

We sat in silence for a moment, as I finished my coffee. I was about to excuse myself, when Bennetti reached into his jacket pocket and removed what looked like a small jewellery box. "A present for Mr. Sark." He said. "He'll know what to do with it."

I raised my eyebrows in curiosity, but faithfully put it into my pocket without giving into the temptation to look inside. "I'll give it to him." I replied.

Bennetti inclined his head in response and I smiled in return. I felt Bennetti push his briefcase towards me with his foot and I picked it up as I rose. I dug into my pocket for some money to leave, but Bennetti shook his head. "Please, allow me." He said.

"Thank you." I replied with a small nod.

"Good luck." Bennetti said as I turned away to leave. "Oh, and Sydney?"

I turned back to face him. "If you need any more help, please don't be afraid to call me."

I nodded again, before heading out the door, the Devil's Hand carefully hidden in the briefcase I carried. I had a trade to arrange.

---

Mexico

Ultimately, I decided there was a certain irony to holding the exchange in the same place Sark had been traded to the Covenant – which is how I found myself standing in the hot sun in a familiar dry lake, watching several dark jeeps and a van with tinted windows approach. This time I was more appropriately dressed in jeans, hiking boots and a tank top, my hair hanging loose. I wore sunglasses against the glare and leant against the sleek black convertible I had arrived in, my arms folded across my chest and a smirk playing at the corner of my mouth.

I watched the CIA agents file out, there suits unmistakable. I dialled a number on my cell. It rang twice before someone picked up. "Vaughn." Came the familiar voice.

"You see the small table about ten metres in front of you?" I said, getting straight to the point before Vaughn got all righteously indignant and made me shoot him. "On it are the three Rambaldi artefacts. They're wired to explode. I _will_ blow them up if you come any closer. I _will_ blow them up if Sark is harmed in any way. Do you understand this?"

"I understand." Vaughn growled somewhat angrily, after a pause. "What I don't understand is why the hell you're doing this, Syd! Sark is a wanted terrorist! He deserves to rot in jail!"

"We are not here to discuss my motives." I said coldly. "I will only deactivate the explosive when Sark is safely in my charge and we are allowed to leave."

There was another pause. "Syd…"

"Do we have a deal, Agent Vaughn?"

I heard Vaughn muffle the phone and have a hushed conversation with someone. Who it was, I didn't know, but I suspected it was Lauren. She was no doubt representing the NSC at the exchange. Just as my impatience was growing almost too much to bear, Vaughn came back on the line. "We have a deal." His voice was cold and held an undercurrent of anger.

"Good." I replied, my voice just as cold, just without the anger. "Send him over."

I snapped the phone shut, keeping my pose seemingly relaxed and moved my free hand closer to my gun in case everything was about to go horribly wrong. "How are we doing?" I asked Liam softly, careful to keep my lips barely moving so the agents watching me through binoculars couldn't read my lips.

"I count four jeeps full of NSC goons." Liam replied via my earpiece. "So far they're holding position."

"Let me know the second they move." I said.

"I will." Liam replied.

Across the dry lake, I watched some of the agents swarm around the van and slowly the familiar figure of Sark came into view amongst them. He was still dressed in his black prison sweats. Someone, who looked very much like Weiss, undid his handcuffs and leg shackles while Vaughn watched. Then I blinked as my Dad walked determinedly towards Sark and appeared to have a few harsh words with him. I dialled Vaughn again. "Send him over." I growled.

Sark was shoved forwards in my direction and he stumbled a little. His face was the cold mask of the assassin; his blue eyes were like ice and betrayed no emotion. Over the open phone line I even heard the cold wit he threw over his shoulder as he walked away. "Thank you, gentlemen, but this is where I have to leave your wonderful hospitality." Sark said, and I just _knew_ he we smirking. "Until next time?"

I hung up the phone again, just as Vaughn plaintively said my name. I wasn't in the mood. I watched everyone carefully as Sark approached, hoping Lindsay wasn't stupid enough to try something, but knowing that he inevitably would. And then suddenly Sark was in front of me. I felt my expression soften as I looked into his beloved blue eyes. Eyes that were currently staring at me with an expression of wonderment.

"Syd…" he began.

I put a finger to his lips to stop his words before leaning upwards to give him a kiss like I had been yearning to do since I had seen him in his cell. His arms came up to cradle me and his hands tangled in my hair. "I'll explain everything later." I told him softly when we broke apart. "Let's get out of here."

He grinned at me, before raising his eyebrows at the car. "Don't worry." I said with a grin of my own. "It isn't one of yours. I stole it from an asshole in Texas."

Sark chuckled as he climbed into the passenger seat. "Lindsay's on the move." Liam's amused voice said though my earpiece.

"Copy that." I replied.

Sark gave me a curious look. "Liam." I explained. "Earpiece."

He gave me a smirk in reply. I slid behind the wheel and started the engine, even as I punched the code to deactivate the explosives into my cell. As soon as that was done, I dialled Vaughn for the last time. "The Rambaldi artefacts have been deactivated." I said. "They're all yours. Oh, and Vaughn? Tell Lindsay he'll have to do a lot better next time."

Beside me, Sark gave a chuckle and Liam's laughter echoed in my ear. I roared away in a cloud of dust, speeding down the twisting roads that led away from the lake. "Man, I think Lindsay turned purple!" Liam crowed.

"Oh?" I said, as the four NSC jeeps fell into line behind us.

"Aye! Although, I'm not sure whether it was your comment and escape or the kiss that did it." Liam mused.

Catching Sark's wary look in the rear view mirror, I hid my knowing smile. "There's a gun in the glove box." I told him. Then I glanced sharply at the lead jeep. "Hang on."

Sark grabbed the side of the car as he fished the gun out of the glove box and I whipped the car into a sharp turn. In a smooth move, Sark took the opportunity to fire at our pursuers. One of the front tyres of the lead jeep blew with a loud bang and the jeep went into a skid. It jerked completely to the side when Sark blew the other tyre and the jeep directly behind it crashed into it almost immediately. I accelerated as loud crash rocked the air and the two jeeps rolled off the road in a spectacular sight. The remaining two jeeps smashed their way through the small amount of wrecked still on the road and accelerated to catch up.

I headed for the nearby hills, hoping to loose the two remaining jeeps amongst the sharp turns. Sark let off a few more shots behind us at the pursuing jeeps, before shooting me a sidelong look that was full of challenge. I returned his look with one of my own, before accelerating some more. I may not be able to afford as many fast cars as Sark could, but I sure as hell knew how to drive one.

The speed and the wind whipped my hair our behind the car and I couldn't help the smile that spread over my face as I pushed the car to its limits; slamming it around sharp turns and along dirt roads. Sark and I chuckled when we left the NSC goons in the dust. As good as they were, we were better. They were no match for us.

I spun the car to a halt in a spectacular stop, halting barely a few steps from where Liam was setting the chopper down in the clearing. I grinned at Sark and raced to the chopper; he was only a step behind me. As the NSC pulled up beside the now abandoned convertible, I couldn't help the cheeky wave I gave a fuming Lindsay as he lurched out of the car.

As soon as we were out of range of their bullets, which naturally, they had insisted on shooting at us, Sark shifted and pulled me into his lap. "That was some rescue, Syd." He grinned.

"Why, thank you!" I grinned cheekily back, yelling a little to be heard above the roar of the chopper and the rushing wind.

"They'll track the helicopter, of course." Sark commented.

"Hmm, I suppose they will." I agreed.

Sark leaned down and kissed me. "You've taken care of everything, haven't you?"

"Well," I replied. "You don't just think I'd let you stay stuck in a cell for the rest of you life, did you?"

Sark's expression turned contemplative. "Why didn't you?" he asked.

I shifted slightly in his arms, looking him dead in the eye. "Because you gave up your freedom for me. Because we're partners. Because you're one of the few things in my damn life that actually makes it worth living." I answered with blunt honesty.

Sark smiled, before kissing me again. "Well, I'm glad you did."

"Hey, lovebirds!" Liam yelled from the cockpit. "This is where you get off!"

I scrambled to my feet and pulled Sark up behind me. The wind rushing past the open sides of the old chopper whipped my hair around my face and the floor heaved slightly underneath my feet, but nevertheless, I stuck my head into the cockpit and grinned at Liam. "Thanks for the lift!"

"No problem!" he called back with an answering grin. "See you back in Ireland!"

Liam artfully brought the chopper down a little and kept it hovering rather steadily as Sark said his own thanks and goodbyes. When he joined me at the open side he raised an eyebrow. I grinned back. Then, grabbing his hand, I jumped out of the chopper and plummeted downwards into the deep blue water of the Pacific Ocean.

We hit the water with a splash as Liam swung the chopper around and headed off. I slung back my hair as I broke the surface and shot another grin at Sark. I had to admit, I was having fun. The adrenaline was pumping and Sark was back! What else could a girl want?

"What that really necessary?" Sark asked.

I laughed. "Come on." I said. "It was fun."

With another chuckle at his expression, I turned and headed for the luxury yacht that was moored about ten meters away. I dragged myself onto the lowered deck at the stern. I helped Sark up behind me and we lay there for a second, feeling a bit bedraggled. Feeling the warm sun on my skin I couldn't help but let out another laugh. "Come on." I said, getting up. "There's a change of clothes inside and the faster we get to Peru, the faster we can get to the plane."

Sark grabbed me by the waist as soon as I entered the cabin and spun me around for a hungry kiss. "How about we just get to international waters?" he growled. "The plane can wait."

"Mmm." I agreed as I watched his eyes darken to a stormy blue. "The plane can wait."

To Be Continued…


	12. Endgame Revealed

Author's Note: Spoilers again for Full Disclosure. Just a bit about Syd's brainwashing. And I just have to say a very big THANK YOU to everybody who has reviewed. I love hearing from you and am glad you're all still enjoying my story!

And I'm sorry this took a bit longer to get posted, but uni's getting insane again and I just had a whole bunch of essays to hand in! Unfortunately, they had to be written first :(

Cheeky.

* * *

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Twelve:

Galway

I sat cross-legged on one of the long benches on Sark's deck, wrapped up warmly in a large sweater and woollen wrap. My eyes were closed and I breathed in deep, trying to let the salt-ridden air and crashing sound of waves soothe me. Not that it was working. I had never been good at this meditation stuff. I tried taken a few more deep breaths, but the tension in my muscles never seemed to ease. I heard the door slide open behind me, as someone else joined me.

"Want to talk about it?" Sark asked me, coming to sit down on the edge of the bench I sat on.

I opened my eyes and pasted on a cheerful smile as I stared into blue eyes that knew me too well. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Syd." Sark said softly, not distracted at all.

"I'm not the one that just spent three weeks locked up in a cell." I grumbled at his knowing smirk.

"It was my choice." Sark told me mildly.

I sighed, fragments of memory assailing me. "I'm beginning to remember what happened to me during my missing two years." I said, turning away to watch the cliffs. "I've never been able to do that before. I mean, I remembered a few things in dreams, but this was the first time I've been awake. I think Rambaldi's formula might have had something to do with it."

"How much do you remember?" Sark asked softly.

I turned back to look at him and found nothing but understanding in his expression. He knew these were my demons to deal with and he didn't give me any false sympathy. "At the moment, not a lot. I remember killing a man to prove to the Covenant that I had been successfully brainwashed, I remember Sloane being there and there's a lot of fragments of my actual brainwashing, but so far that appears to be it."

"You were brainwashed?" Sark asked. "I didn't think that was possible. Your will is too strong."

My lips curved into a smile at Sark's compliment, even as I shook my head. "Sorry. I forgot that you don't know." I explained. "My father developed a programme back in the 1970's to train children to be sleeper agents and future spies. I was his prototype. It seemed part of this training made me virtually impervious to brainwashing."

"Project Christmas?" Sark asked, surprised. "You were the prototype for Project Christmas?"

I nodded. "How did you know what it was called?"

"Irina mentioned it once or twice." He replied. "It was one of her jobs to steal it from the CIA. I even think she used it on me. I did that…puzzle once. Instinctively."

"At least we know why we're so good, huh?" I joked weakly.

Sark smiled gratefully at me, even though I knew my joke hadn't been that good. I think it always helps to know others have been through what you have; even if it's just a shared feeling of being manipulated one more time. "So if you weren't brainwashed, then you were aware the whole time?"

I nodded. It went unspoken that I worked as a double agent as soon as I could – but that wasn't the part I was having trouble dealing with. My regained memories, not even complete ones at that, were tormenting me. I smiled, but there was no warmth in it. To think, not so long ago I would have given anything to have my memories back! Now that I had them, I wasn't sure I wanted to keep them.

"I was brainwashed for six months. Six months of absolute torture. They used everything on me…sensory deprivation, electroshock, drugs…" My voice began to tremble as the memories of pain and fear swamped me. "He would put me to sleep by running an IV with a barbiturate into one arm and shock me awake with an amphetamine into the other…"

"He?" Sark asked softly.

"The doctor I killed in Frankfurt." I said brokenly, not really seeing anything anymore but my memories. "I promised to kill him. He told me that when I shot him…said I was his favourite…"

As the tears started to slip down my face, Sark gathered me into his arms and held me tightly. I wept silently for a minute before continuing with the rest of it. "Once he thought he'd broken me, he began to condition me…" I said softly. "…hypnosis…narcotics to make me believe what wasn't there…withholding food…bombarding me with images…"

Sark's arms tightened around me even more and I felt him press a soft kiss to my forehead. "And you know what the strange thing was?" I asked, rather sardonically and not really expecting an answer. "I kept expecting my Dad and Vaughn to bust down the door and rescue me. I mean, how bad is that? They thought I was dead! Fuck, I even saw my own funeral! The only reason I ever let them think I was becoming someone else was because it was a way out…"

"…a way to rescue yourself when no one else would." Sark finished for me. "A way to survive."

I looked up at him and noticed the shadows in his eyes. The complete understanding because he'd been there too. "Yeah." I said. "Because even if I was someone else to the rest of the world, the pain would stop."

"Oh, Syd." Sark said, gently brushing my hair off my face. "I think you have to be the strongest person I have ever met."

"So are you." I replied. "I'm willing to bet that you've been through just as much, if not more. And you're still here."

Sark smiled, but it was sad. Oh, so sad. Just like his eyes. "Only because of you." He whispered.

"Me?" I blinked, surprised.

"Ever since I first met you, it's been thoughts of you that have helped me through all of my darkest moments. Especially CIA custody." He said. "I had the idea that I would avenge your death when I finally got out. Find who was responsible for your death and kill them."

I looked at Sark and felt the tears gathered in my eyes. Somehow, his words healed a part of my soul and a warmth seemed to spread through me. I reached up and kissed him, feeling more treasured in that moment than I had before in my entire life. It didn't matter that we had still been enemies then, or that we hadn't know each other like we did now…he would have done more than any of my friends ever had.

We sat there for a long time, Sark and I; he was straddling the bench while I curled up in his arms, my head on his shoulder. The sky turned golden in a blaze of fire as the sun set and the air chilled. As the first stars began to appear in the sky, I asked the question I had wanted to ask ever since I had woken up in the naval hospital. "Why did you give yourself up for me?"

I felt Sark's surprise and got up slightly so I could see his face. His eyes were unreadable as the golden light played over his face. "You mean, to the CIA?"

I nodded, feeling strangely vulnerable. "Because I don't want you to die, Syd." He answered.

"Oh." I felt strangely let down by his answer.

I snuggled back down into his arms and returned my gaze to the sunset. "And because I love you." He whispered.

"You love me?" I twisted back around to see his face.

Sark smiled sardonically and nodded. "I think I have for a long time, but I've only realised it recently."

Warmth burst through me, driving away all the feelings of pain and somehow I felt this amazing…_freedom_. "Don't worry, Syd." He told me, his eyes once again unreadable. "I don't expect any declarations on your part. But you wanted the truth and that's it."

I felt a smile blossom across my face. "You really love me?" I asked.

Once again Sark nodded. "Yes, Sydney. I really do."

"Good." I said. "Because I think I love you too."

The look on Sark's face was something I will treasure for the rest of my life. As I watched, his face moved from an expression of surprise to one of cautious joy, before his eyes seemed to glisten with unshed tears. "I love you, Julian." I repeated and watched some of the shadows flee from his eyes.

I think I shall always remember the look of happiness and love in Sark's eyes as his mouth came down on mine. When he looked at me like that, I felt like the most treasured woman in the world. I had finally found the one person that would offer me strength and the freedom to be exactly who I was. The kiss was long and sweet, filled with the intoxicating sensation of loving someone and being loved completely in return.

When he finally broke away, Sark gave me a soft smile and gently stroked my cheek with one of the hands that was cupping my face. Then he seemed to remember something. "I have something for you." He said.

I looked at him curiously. "Oh?" I asked, a teasing smile playing at the corner of my mouth.

With a smirk, Sark reached into his pocket and drew out a small box. He handed it to me without a word and I shot him another curious look before opening it. I gasped in surprise and felt my face break into a grin. A beautiful teardrop diamond was nestled on the black velvet. Isabella's necklace. I felt tears gather in my eyes. "But…how..?"

"Bennetti." Sark answered.

Recognition hit. The box Bennetti had given me in Paris to give to Sark. "I think it's rather fitting this way." He added softly.

I nodded, still a little teary. "Me too." I agreed. "Thank you."

Sark smiled. "You're welcome."

I reached around behind me to try and put it on, but Sark took it out of my hands. Twisting around, I lifted me hair out of the way and he fastened the chain around my neck. At that moment, Liam stuck his head out the door, interrupting us. "Sorry." He apologised. He had arrived only an hour or so after Julian and I had arrived after Mexico. "But I think I've found something."

We got up and walked back into the house, following Liam as he led us to one of the smaller sitting rooms. "I've been going over all the information we have on the Covenant." Liam explained as he walked. "Focusing in particular on the last year or so. The time in which Julia Thorne was active."

I felt a shiver go through me at the mention of Julia Thorne, but I ruthlessly suppressed it. Somehow sensing my tension, Julian reached out and gently held my hand. I had to hide a quick smile. Sark was gazing impassively at Liam; unless you looked down you wouldn't realise one of the CIA's most wanted men was currently holding hands like he was in the 1st grade. I don't know why that analogy came to me, but suddenly I had an image of a blonde, curly-haired little boy with an impish smile and sad eyes.

"What is it?" Sark whispered to me.

"You would have been a cute kid, Julian." I whispered back with an impish smile of my own.

"Cute?" Sark said, this time not in a whisper and sounding thoroughly disgusted by the description.

Liam turned around at the outburst, took one look at Sark's offended expression and raised an eyebrow in my direction, silently demanding an explanation. "Everyone's cute when they're six!" I defended.

Sark gave me a long look, almost as if he was suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "Syd," he said patiently, "why were you thinking about me aged six?"

"Oh, nevermind!" I snapped, before turning to Liam. "So, what did you find?"

Liam and Sark shared a looked that clearly said "Women!". I glared at both of them. Men! "So?"

"There's a pattern to the missions Julia was sent on and the artefacts she was asked to retrieve." Liam said, moving to his laptop and indicating the open file onscreen. "I think the Covenant is trying to build something."

"Something?" Sark asked.

Liam gave him a half-shrug, his face frowning. "It's related to Rambaldi, but that's no surprise. I haven't figured it out exactly yet. All I know is that the Covenant has virtually bankrupted itself trying to get their hands on those artefacts."

"Hence the need for my inheritance." Sark said disgustedly.

Liam nodded, before sliding his eyes in my direction with an amused grin. "They especially weren't happy when they discovered half their artefacts were fake." He said. "They've spent the last couple of months frantically searching for the real artefacts you managed to switch."

I felt an answering smile tug at the corner of my mouth. "I can't say I'm upset to hear that." I replied.

Sark sighed; not loudly, but I was close enough to hear it. "I supposed I'd better try contacting Irina." He said.

I squeezed his hand in reassurance. "I could try Bennetti." I suggested.

Sark shook his head. "As much as Bennetti knows, Irina's probably the only person on this planet who would know what Sloane is up to."

"I don't think it really matters much." Liam said. "Since you two are headed to the Amazon."

I blinked in surprise. "The Amazon?"

Liam nodded, then shook his head slightly at Sark and my bemused expressions. "The location you found with Rambaldi's Watchglass and map?" he reminded us. "The Covenant are ruthlessly trying to find that location; so whatever's there must be important."

I winced a little at the subtle rebuke. In all the chaos surrounding my collapse, my returning memories and Sark's imprisonment, I had almost completely forgotten about the information Sark and I had found in the Gobi Desert. So much had happened since then…

"Any idea what's there?" I asked.

"None." Liam answered. "But it's important. Sloane's almost rabid for whatever's there."

I sighed again. "So it's probably a good bet that it has something to do with Rambaldi's endgame." I said. "Terrific."

"We'll figure this out, Syd." Sark reassured me.

I nodded at him, trying to believe that completely. "Yeah." I agreed. "We will."

* * *

Four hours later, Sark and I found ourselves on the plane headed towards the Amazon Basin. Sark was sitting on one side of the plane going over all the intel reports for what seemed like the millionth time. I wasn't sure what he was trying to find, but it seemed important. I'd given up about an hour ago and was sitting stretched out, alternately reading the end of Isabella's diary and watching Sark. Sighing, I shifted position a little and turned my attention back to the diary.

I frowned when I saw the entry had changed from the others I had been reading. No longer did Isabella write with the neat, flowery writing I was used to. Her handwriting seemed rushed and jumpy, and the entry was roughly scribbled on spare paper instead of neatly one after the other like before. Small spots of smudged ink covered the entry as well, and I realised they were the marks of tears. Concerned, I read on, wondering what had changed from the last entry in which Isabella was so much in love and gleefully planning her elopement with Edward.

_July 30th 1427,_

_I am dead. While my body may still be breathing like the rest of the living, inside I am dead. Was there really a time no that long ago when I believed my life could not get any worse than the hell it had been? Because I was wrong. Oh, so very wrong._

_Edward is dead._

_I cannot believe it even as I write it, but I felt Edward's blood on my hands and cradled him as he died. His last words were "I love you", but I only know that now by looking back. At the time, the sound of my heart shattering drowned out all other sound. There is only one reason I do not fling myself into the canals and join my beloved at Heaven's pearly gates – our child. I am pregnant._

_My father is marrying me off to that horrible name, but I no longer care. Nothing he can inflict upon me will ever come close to the pain I feel now. I will raise our son to know the bravery and honour of his father, for I am sure it will be a son. That is my sole reason to remain here, in this hell. Let no man believe they can take this from me, for then they shall find out just how dangerous Isabella de L'Archier can be._

_Isabella_

I blinked away the tears that had gathered in my eyes and read the last entry in the diary, obviously having been written much later than the others. The tear marks were gone and the handwriting was once again neat, but I knew that Isabella had never been the same after Edward's death. If Sark were to die…even thinking it made my heart break. But I know what I would do. Destroy those responsible.

_March 12th 1433,_

_This is the final entry in my diary. Sydney. That's your name, woman who shares my face. I don't know how I know this, but I do. This entry is for you. My father was the one that killed Edward. He knew about our love for each other and couldn't let it end happily. Something to do with you and how he plans to stop you from carrying out your destiny._

_I'm sorry I must lay all these burdens at your feet, but the time is not right to stop my father. He is right. Only you have that power. Use it and destroy him, for otherwise he will destroy you and the man you love._

_Our son is growing into a fine man. My brute of a husband thinks my beloved Giovanni is his, but I know the truth. Giovanni is just like his true father – strong of heart and soul. I will give him this diary to hide and make him promise to make sure it is kept safe. Then, when the time is right, you shall have it Sydney. And when you read of my thoughts, I hope you do not judge me too foolish._

_Fulfil your destiny. Destroy my father._

_Then, please, I beg of you to do one thing for me. Run away, far away. Find a quite corner of this world to live out the rest of your life with the man you love. Julian. I know his name too. You deserve some happiness._

_Until we meet in the next life, Sydney._

_Isabella._

"Syd?" Sark's quiet question and his arms coming around me jerked me back to the plane.

I became aware that tears were silently sliding down my face. "I finished the dairy." I said with a watery smile.

"That bad, huh?" Sark joked weakly, gathering me closer to him.

I pressed my face into his chest for a moment, gathering strength, before leaning back again. "Rambaldi killed Edward." I said. "Isabella held him as he died."

"I had a feeling it wouldn't end happily." Sark said.

I gave a small smile. "She really is a lot like me." I replied. "You know what she did? She marryied the man her father wanted her to, so she could raise her son. Edward's son."

"So Bennetti…" Sark began.

"…is the descendant of Isabella and Edward." I finished. "Yeah."

"It explains why he had the diary." Sark said. "And why no one else knew of it."

I nodded in agreement as I turned the diary around and let Sark read the last entry. "We're going to stop Sloane and then we're going to make sure Rambaldi's legacy is destroyed." I said firmly as Sark read the entry.

When he looked back at me, even he had the slight sheen of tears in his eyes. "Yes." He agreed. "We are."

* * *

Brazil

The Amazon Basin was hot and steamy, just as I'd expected. My boots were covered in mud, as were the bottom half of my jeans and sweat made my clothes stick to my skin. I wore a black tank and loose shirt over my jeans and about a million pounds of bug repellent. Not that it made much difference; the bugs kept biting me anyway. And then there had been that memorable episode with the leeches.

"Please tell me we're close." I muttered to Sark, pushing through the dense undergrowth to stand beside him.

Sark took his eyes of the GPS in his hand and shot me a smirk. "Sick of the jungle already, Syd?" he teased.

I raised an eyebrow. "How can you tell?" I asked, dryly. "Was it the swearing, the leeches or the mud that gave you the clue?"

"Actually, it was the way you threatened to kill that monkey about a kilometre ago." Sark replied.

I looked at Sark in annoyance and disgust. Despite having trekked for miles through this steamy, dense jungle, he still looked remarkably fresh and neat. There was barely any mud on his clothes (in comparison to the ten pounds on mine) and his hair was still perfect. Unlike mine, which stuck to my face and neck where it had come out of the tight braid. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm so glad that amused you." I grumped.

Sark's smirk changed into an amused grin. "To answer your earlier question: yes, we're close." He told me. "We should be coming up on the shrine in about 500m."

Not a moment too soon. "Thank God." I muttered.

Sark chuckled softly. "If I didn't know you better, I might think you were eager to see what was in there." He said as we began walking again.

I just shot Sark a grumpy look and returned to trudging my way through the mud and vegetation. It didn't take us long until we could glimpse the sandstone shrine through the trees. Vines and plants had grown all around the ruins and not much remained in the clearing – but it was enough to tell us that we were in the right place. As was the Rambaldi symbol which appeared to be carved into almost everything.

"Love what they did with the place." I muttered.

Sark chuckled. "It does have a certain ambiance, doesn't it?" he agreed with a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.

I grinned back. "You mean the creepiness? Or the whole "crumbling and decaying" look?"

Suddenly, the sounds of the jungle around us seemed to shift and change and I could have sworn I heard the soft beats of a helicopter in the air. My hand relaxed on their grip on my gun and I rose from the slight crouch I had automatically sunk into. Beside me, Sark did the same, his blue eyes hard and glittering like ice. "We'd better find the entrance to the catacombs." He said softly, all business.

I nodded in reply, still warily scanning the vegetation around us. "Yeah."

Ten minutes later, Sark and I had successfully located the old trapdoor in the centre of the ruins. Made of wood, the actually door had long since rotted away, revealing a dark tunnel that went straight down. "Ladies first." Sark said with a small smirk, gesturing towards the entrance.

I gave him a dry look. "Thanks." I said, eyeing the ladder leading down into the darkness; thankfully, this was in the form of grooves carved out of the rock walls and hadn't rotted with age like the door.

Beginning my perilous decent, I gave Sark one last look, took a deep breath and started down. I attached a small light to my belt to light my way down, which I really needed when Sark covered the entrance with branches and leaves, and followed me down. The air was thick and humid, a mix of decaying vegetation and stale air. The long climb reminded me of the one in Argentina, where I had located Rambaldi's diary. I just hoped this time turned out better that that one had.

When I finally reached the bottom, after an eternity, I turned to wait for Sark to join me. He jumped down the final few steps and gave me a reassuring smile. Together, we turned to face the narrow tunnel leading away from the ladder and what would lead, hopefully, to what we were searching for.

* * *

After a long hour of wandering through the stale, meandering tunnel, Sark and I found ourselves in a wide room very similar to the one containing the map in the Gobi Desert. Sunlight streamed in, lighting one of the most intriguing, yet horrifying sights I had ever seen. I took a few hesitant steps forward, my eyes fixed on the far end of the room. "Oh my God…" I breathed.

Beside me, Sark was just as tense and surprised. Covering the whole far wall was the Rambaldi symbol, surrounded by what appeared to be some sort of motto or creed. Below the wall, sitting on a raised platform, was a tiny model. I frowned, not quite able to place was I was looking at, and walked over to the model. Then I gasped. The model was the perfect replica of a city designed in the shape of the Rambaldi symbol. It sat at the bottom of Rambaldi's beloved Mt. Subasio and suddenly I understood what the prophecy meant.

_This woman here depicted will possess unseen marks. Signs that she will be the one to bring forth my works. Bind them with fury, a burning anger unless prevented at vulgar cost this woman will render the greatest power unto utter desolation. This woman, without pretence, will have had her effect, never having seen the beauty of my sky behind Mt. Subasio. Perhaps a single glance would have quelled her fire._

Rambaldi was wrong – no matter how long I stared at the "sky behind Mt. Subasio" (the far wall), I would never stop trying to destroy him or his endgame. Maybe his formula had been designed to change that, but I had stopped him then and I would again.

"The order of Rambaldi will arise and rule the world." Sark read the motto surrounding the symbol on the wall. "For they are the true keepers of destiny."

"He's going to destroy the world." I said to Sark, horrified. "That's his endgame."

An evil chuckle echoed around the room. I tensed immediately, fear curling through my gut as I whirled around and drew my gun. When I did, I found Sloane standing at the back of the room with a whole team of goons and a few familiar faces; I recognised Elena Derevko, McKennas Cole and my old nemesis, Anna Espinosa.

"Very good, Sydney." Sloane said, his gun pointed directly at my head. "And I must thank you. Without your help we would never have found this place."

I felt a second of fear at having led them here before Sloane fired. Belatedly, I recognised his weapon as a dart gun, just as the dart stuck me in the neck and I sank to my knees. A wave of fire and agony spread throughout my body, blinding me with pain and I groaned through gritted teeth. In that moment, I knew the dart had been filled with Rambaldi's formula. It wasn't nearly as much as I had been injected with before, but it was enough.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you, Mr. Sark." I heard Sloane say from somewhere above me. "Anna is an amazing shot. You'd be dead before you could even take a step."

A second later, I was yanked roughly to my feet by one of the goons and found McKennas Cole standing in front of me, smirking. On Sark, the smirk was cute. On Cole, it made me want to shoot him. "Sydney," he greeted, reaching for my gun. "I'll take that."

I gave him a furious look as he took my gun from me and bit back another groan. The pain was so agonising that I couldn't do anything to escape, not even with my high pain tolerance. Not even when the goon changed his grip and held only one arm. It took ever ounce of my will just to remain standing.

Next to me, Sark had also been grabbed and disarmed. Two goons held him and he continued to struggle until Anna pointed her gun right into his face with a cruel smile. "Syd!" Sark called out, worry apparent in his eyes.

"I'm fine." I replied, even though both of us knew I was lying through my teeth.

"Mr. Cole, will you please retrieve the artefact?" Sloane asked.

"Of course, sir." Cole replied and I was shocked by the respect in his tone – these were two men who were supposed to hate each other!

As Cole walked over to the model behind us, still holding my gun, Sloane walked up to me. "Sydney," he coaxed, reaching up to stroke my cheek. "Don't fight me."

I opened my mouth for a scathing reply and attempted to jerk my head away form his touch, but somehow the words refused to come out and my head refused to obey. A curious sensation came over me – I could hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears and my breath seemed impossibly loud, yet all the other sounds were muffled. Even the pain seemed to fade into the background.

"That's it, Sydney." Sloane's voice seemed to vibrate through me and sink into my very bones. "I only want to see you happy."

Of course he did. Why had I ever thought otherwise? I smiled. Sloane would make everything alright.

"Vaughn made you happy, didn't he?" Sloane asked, his voice impossibly persuasive. "He loved you very much. Just like you still love him. You still love him, don't you Sydney?"

Before I could answer that mesmerising voice, an image of blue eyes swam before my eyes, breaking a little of the spell surrounding me. "I love you, Syd." The echo of a familiar British voice sounded in my ears.

With enormous effort, I dragged myself through the fog entangling my mind, struggling to shatter the daze around me and return to reality. "I love Julian, you son-of-a-bitch!" I growled out fiercely.

"Sydney…" Sloane began again and the fog threatening to swallow me once more.

"Save it!" I snapped. "Nothing you could possibly say would ever change that!"

Sloane regarded me coldly for a moment. "So be it." He said and nodded to Anna.

Anna grinned evilly, before reaching out and smashing Sark across the face with the butt of her gun. He sagged in the grip of the goons holding him, unconsciousness claiming him. "Julian!" I yelled, struggling against the returning pain and the goon holding me.

I fell silent when the cold metal of Cole's gun pressed against my temple. I watched in angry silence as Sloane smiled coldly at Anna, as she and the two goons dragged Sark's unconscious body from the room. When he turned back to me with a cruel smirk, I had to bite my lip to stop myself leaping at him and attempting to claw out his eyes.

"You know, Sydney." He said. "You really should have learnt from Isabella's example. You had a chance to live a long and happy life."

"I would rather die today that live in a world where everyone worships you!" I snapped angrily.

Sloane laughed, but there was no humanity in the sound. "Well, now you get your chance." He said, before turning to follow Anna.

At the same moment Sloane disappeared, chaos erupted. Men in black suddenly burst out of hidden doors to the sides of the model, guns at the ready. "CIA! Freeze!" they yelled.

Suddenly the goon holding me went limp and Cole was thrown across the room by a well-placed kick. But before I could turn and find out who my rescuer was, something jabbed me painfully in the neck. I gasped and spun, only to find Irina standing behind me with an empty syringe in her black-gloved hand. "Mom?" I gasped as the remaining fog surrounding my mind disappeared as a result of whatever drug she had just injected me with did its job.

"I stole it from the hospital while you were being treated." My mother said by way of explanation. "We…"

Before she could finish saying whatever it was, Elena had snuck up behind her and yanked her backwards by her hair. "Irina!" she growled.

"Elena." Irina said coldly back, sounding as if being yanked backwards by her sister wasn't surprising at all.

I lost whatever happened next as Cole's fist connected with my mouth, sending me to my knees again. "I've been waiting to do that for a long time, Pigtails." He said, using his old nickname for me.

"Yeah?" I asked, climbing to my feet again. Abruptly, I feigned a punch before kicking him viciously in the groin. He dropped to his hands and knees with a groan. "Well, I've been waiting to do _that_ for a very long time."

I touched my tongue to my split lip as I warily watched Cole climb to his feet again. Memories assailed me of my time as Julia Thorne; of fighting for survival, of seeing one man's smug face watching me all the time…Cole. "Is that all you got, Pigtails?" Cole asked me as he straightened.

I smiled, but it was cold. "Oh, I got a lot more than that, Cole." I answered. "Want to come over here and find out?"

Cole gave me a dark look, before racing forward and sending a punch straight at my nose. I was woozy from the drugs, but not _that_ woozy. I blocked his punch and lashed out with one of my own, sending Cole a challenging look. I lashed out again with a couple of kicks, sending Cole staggered backwards a few steps, before he retaliated with a kick of his own. I spun out of the way and blocked, catching Cole in the gut with my fist and sending him staggering backwards again.

"You've picked up a few new tricks since we last fought, haven't you, Pigtails?" he panted.

"I've picked up a lot more things than that, Cole."

Cole darted in with a kick and I retreated, before spinning around with a punch-kick combination that sent him reeling again. He backed up a few paces and waited, his hand rubbing his jaw where I had hit him before. I came at him again, trying to knock him out when he whipped out a knife and grabbed me by the neck in a lightening fast move. I felt the cold metal press against my throat.

"Now what are you going to do, Pigtails?" he whispered in my ear.

"Kick your ass!" I growled in reply.

Taking my opportunity, I grabbed his wrist and wrenching the knife away from my neck, before elbowing him in the face and spinning away. Before he could turn and come at me again, I gave him a hard kick to the back, putting all my anger and frustration into it. Cole staggered and fell to the ground, gasping in pain. I stepped forward, intending to knock him out, when I saw his muscles tense. Reacting on instinct, I darted away as Cole spun and shot at me.

I kicked the gun out of his hand as soon as I saw it, and it skidded away across the floor. He snarled in response, but I kicked him again. He caught me foot, sending me crashing to the floor. I twisted as I fell, using the palms of my hands to break my fall slightly. I winced at the jolt that ran up my arms, before smiling when I saw what lay in front of me.

"That does it, Pigtails!" Cole cried. "You just couldn't be nice for once and just die! You had to go all kick ass on me, didn't you?"

I didn't reply; instead I twisted again and brought up Cole's gun – the same gun that I had just snatched off the ground. I shot Cole three times in the chest to his shock, giving into the rage that had burnt inside of me ever since Cole had ordered me to kill that man for the Covenant.

Staggering back up onto my feet and wondering just how much more I had to take, I glanced back through the chaos to my mother. She was kneeling beside the dead body of her sister Elena, gently touching her cheek with a sad smile on her face. I turned away from her towards the door which Sloane had disappeared through. Torn, I struggled to make a decision as bullets whizzed around me as the CIA and Covenant goons continued to fight it out. I had to rescue Julian, but my mother wouldn't have come without a very good reason – and I needed help.

"Sydney!" my mother grabbed my arm, breaking my thoughts. "This way! We have to go, now!"

"Julian…" I began.

"Sloane has him now!" Irina said. "Come on! We have to get out of here!"

With one last wistful look at the door which Sloane had gone through, I turned and followed my mother through the chaos and out the back way, vowing that I would not rest until Sloane was dead, Rambaldi destroyed and Sark was back with me where he belonged.

To Be Continued…


	13. Rambaldi's Destruction

Author's Note: I hope Jack doesn't sound too out of character in this chapter. I kind of wanted to portray him as a man who hides a lot under the surface and doesn't always deal with things in the most constructive manner. Sort of glimpse the real man underneath it all. Let me know what you think!

And thanks for the reviews!! It's great to hear from you!

Cheeky.

* * *

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Thirteen:

Brazil

Leaving the chaos the Covenant goons and the CIA agents had created far behind; I followed my mother along a winding stone tunnel to a ladder much like the one I had climbed down earlier. Except that several ropes hung down from above. "Come on." Irina said.

Without waiting for a reply, she jogged forward and began the climb back up to the surface. I grimaced slightly and followed her. Thankfully, the gloves I wore protected my hands from the rough rope, but the climb was still hard. My arms and shoulders were burning by the time I reached the surface and sweat had made my shirt damp. With a groan, I levered myself out of the hole and found myself in a small clearing amongst the dense tropical vegetation.

Acting on autopilot, I climbed back to my feet when my mother stopped to help and followed her to a jeep she had hidden nearby. Piling in, we were roaring away through the jungle before anyone got a chance to follow us. I sank back against the seat and closed my eyes, trusting my mother enough to get us out of here.

"Sydney, are you alright?" she asked, concerned.

My eyes flickered open again and I caught the worried look she sent me. "I'm fine." I lied.

In truth, I was anything but fine. Rambaldi's formula and the antidote were still warring within my system, making everything just a little surreal. Fear was coiled tight in my gut, not for me, but for Sark. My heart felt as if someone had ripped it from my chest – Sark was in the hands of a madman who would like nothing better than to kill him painfully, just for the effect it would have on me. I squeezed my eyes shit again, blocking out the fear and despair – I had to be strong. Sloane was out there somewhere and I _would_ find him.

"I have a safehouse in Manaus where we can rest." Irina said. "Do you have any idea where Sloane is headed?"

I began to shake my head when a thought struck me. The memory was hazy, but it was there. Yet another missing piece of my missing two years. "Maybe." I answered.

Irina was silent for a moment, so I glanced at her. She was frowning in thought. "I think we should go and see your father." She said finally. "He might know something we don't."

I felt a small frisson of fear at the mention of Dad. We hadn't exactly parted in the best of situations and I wasn't really sure what he thought of the decisions I had made – I mean, I was allied with a wanted terrorist and the NSC was after me. I was no longer the golden girl of the CIA – and it was probably the only thing that had stopped a world-wide manhunt for me.

However, none of the fear or apprehension showed on my face. I raised an eyebrow at Irina. "How are we going to do that?" I asked. "Last time I checked, we were both on the CIA's most wanted list."

Irina shot me a sharp look. "You're on the CIA's most wanted list?" she asked, seemingly before she could stop herself.

I smirked, unconsciously mimicking Sark. "Ever since I allied myself with a wanted terrorist and went rogue from the CIA."

My mother gave me a begrudging smile, almost as if she were impressed by my actions but didn't want to show it. "Well, then." She said. "I suppose we'll just have to go and see him without anyone else knowing."

I sighed at her answer and mischievous look. _Wigs again_, I thought dryly. Only way we would ever get into the US without the CIA knowing. My only hope was that my father wouldn't shoot either me or my mother on sight.

* * *

Los Angeles

Sneaking into my father's house was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Both Irina and I were not obviously armed (although we both had guns hidden somewhere) and we were careful not to appear too dangerous, just in case Dad shot first and asked questions later. But after the marathon that had been our trip into America, Dad's place was easy. I discovered why when I snuck through his kitchen.

Empty and half-eaten take-out cartons littered the benches and table, along with quite an impressive collection of whiskey bottles. _Empty_ whiskey bottles. I shot a worried look at Irina, and was a little surprised to see a look of such concern come over her features. Normally, she appeared so cold, it was hard to believe she had once played the role of loving mother and wife so convincingly. It was moments like these, however, that I wondered just how much of it had been an act and how much had been real.

"Dad?" I called out softly.

A crash sounded from the living room, so I headed that way. "Dad?" I called again, only to be greeted by a horrifying sight for a daughter to see.

Dad lay sprawled on the floor of his living room, the crash having come from the almost empty whiskey bottle he had knocked over in an obvious attempt to reach for his gun, which sat just out of reach on the coffee table. He was unshaven and he still wore the suit he usually wore to work, except it was wrinkled and the tie and jacket had been thrown onto the couch. Dad's normally sharp and emotionless eyes were blood-shot and seemed to contain a hundred emotions – emotions I wasn't sure my father always felt, let alone showed anyone.

Behind me, Irina sighed. "I'll put the coffee on." She said, sounding as if she had seen this sight before.

Dad shifted his blood-shot eyes beyond me to Irina, narrowed them and made another attempt to reach for his gun. I moved it before he could shoot anyone – assuming of course, he could actually aim anymore. "Irina?" he slurred.

Looking at my drunken father, I felt sadness and sympathy well up inside me. I could understand exactly what he was feeling in this moment and I felt guilty for causing some of it. That being said, I wouldn't have changed the decisions I had made for anything. "Oh, Dad." I said sadly. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Dad shifted his attention back to me. "Sydney?" he slurred this time.

"Yes, Dad." I sighed. Seems I wasn't going to get much of an answer from him until he'd sobered up a little. "It's me."

I sighed again, before moving to try and help him to his feet. "Cold water?" Irina asked from the doorway.

"I was thinking it might help a little." I said.

"If not with his drunken state, then perhaps with the smell." Irina agreed.

Together, Irina and I manhandled my father into the bathroom and dumped him unceremoniously into the shower, before turning the cold water on with no remorse. The fact that he hadn't been able to walk, let alone struggle, proved just how drunk he was. I wondered how long he had been doing this to himself, because it certainly looked like this wasn't his first binge.

When Irina turned off the cold shower and began stripping the sodden clothes from my now shivering father, I decided to check on the coffee. There was only so much of my father that I actually wanted to see. Irina wandered back into the kitchen about ten minutes later a little damp and with a scowl on her face. Dad entered a minute after her, dressed in sweats with his hair still damp, but looking much better than he had. Wordlessly, I handed him a mug of very strong coffee and warily watched both my parents. I handed my mother a weaker cup of coffee and picked one up for myself.

I turned back to find Dad watching me rather closely over the rim of his mug. His eyes gleamed with their familiar intelligence and had lost some of the alcoholic haze clouding them. "The NSC would arrest you if they knew you were here." He said, his voice rough.

"Are you going to?" I asked cautiously.

He gave me a look filled with hurt. "Sydney, you're my daughter. I would never do that to you." He said, his tone even despite the storm of emotion in his eyes.

There were so many things I wanted to say to my father; so many things I wanted to ask. I left them unsaid and unasked. Now was not the time – or perhaps now was the perfect time. I was so confused. I had never seen my father so emotional before. So human. I think I finally began to understand him in that moment. God knows that had never happened before.

"Thank you." I told him instead.

I think he would have said more, had Irina not been there. I probably would have too, but neither of us trusted Irina enough. She meant so much to both of us, but we would never forget who she was. What she was. So when her phone rang, it was something of a relief to both of us. She left to answer it and Dad immediately turned to me. "Sydney…" he began, but like me, I don't think he knew where to begin.

I gave him a small smile. "Its okay, Dad." I told him. "I know."

"I really do love you, Sydney. I hope you believe that." He said finally.

"I do." I replied softly, and I did. Checking to make sure Irina was still out of earshot, I reached into my jacket and pulled out Isabella's diary. "It isn't much," I said, giving it to him, "but maybe it'll help explain things a little."

Dad's eyes were back to their usual unreadable best and he nodded once as he took the diary. "I love you too, you know." I said.

Irina re-entered the kitchen in that moment, hanging up her cell. She gave no explanation about the call. "Has Sydney explained why we're here yet?"

"You're after Sloane. And you think I can help you find him." Even less-than-sober, Jack Bristow was a force to be reckoned with.

Irina nodded as I hid my smile behind my coffee mug. "We wouldn't have come to you otherwise." Irina said, but Dad appeared to ignore her.

"Where's Sark?" he asked me instead.

"Sloane has him." I answered.

Dad raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. He turned and disappeared into the living room for a moment, before coming back. When he did, he tossed a folder onto a cleaner part of the bench. "That's everything I have." He said to Irina.

She moved towards the folder as Dad leaned back against the bench next to me. I made no move to read the file, as I sense Dad had something else to say. I was right.

"No one knows where the Covenant Headquarters are." He said softly. "But I think you do."

"My missing two years." I said disgustedly.

Dad nodded. "Do you remember anything?"

"Quite a lot." I replied. "Nothing helpful though. It's mostly about the nine months prior to Julia Thorne being active."

I'd forgotten Dad didn't know I'd remembered – no one did, apart from Sark. Dad looked horrified at the thought I'd gone through nine months of torture and brainwashing (which I had)…and guilty that he couldn't have endured it for me. That instinctive gesture that was so much my father went a long way to helping me forgive the things he had done – and understand why a little better.

I reached out to lay a reassuring hand on his arm – and then hugged him, because he looked like he needed it; and truth be told, so did I. "I survived, Dad." I whispered in his ear. "Thanks to you."

"Sloane could be anywhere!" Irina said loudly, in disgust, breaking up the tender father-daughter moment.

I shrugged at her, not really knowing why she expected it to be different this time. "Of course he could." I said. "Sloane is smart enough to plan that I'd find him. He'd have someplace secret to slink back to, like the slimy bastard he is."

"But you're supposed to be there!" Irina snapped. "How can you be there if you don't know where _there_ is?"

"Good question." Dad said. "And even better one is: why do you care so much, Irina?"

I hid another smile. Dad would never trust Irina Derevko again – and it was just as well. If anyone could understand what my mother was plotting, it would be him. And there was no doubt in my mind that she was plotting something – her rescue in Brazil had been just too perfectly timed.

Irina frowned and looked at him. "Do you really think I have devoted so much of my life to Rambaldi without a reason?" she asked him, irritated. "The woman in his prophecy is Sydney. She is the only one who can stop him."

"And you really just want to stop him?" Dad asked coldly.

"Jack!" Irina snapped. "Of course I do! I've told you that before."

I raised an eyebrow at that. It seemed my parent's relationship had been a lot deeper that I thought during my missing two years. I wasn't sure what I thought of that. The childish part of me wanted them to love each other again; to be the perfect parents I remembered. The grown up part didn't want Irina to cause any more wounds on my father's soul. She would end up destroying him.

"Well forgive me if I didn't entirely believe you, Irina." My Dad replied.

I smiled sadly as I watched my parents glare at each other. There was so much emotion between them; so many undercurrents. There was pain, too, on both sides. And love. I hadn't expected that. As Jack and Laura, they had been the perfect couple. As Jack and Irina, I think they knew each other better than anyone else. If you just saw my parents' relationship on paper, I don't think you'd really understand. I don't even think I did.

"I think Sloane's in Venice." I said softly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen.

"Venice?" Dad asked, turning back to me.

I nodded. "Rambaldi used to live there. He probably planned for his endgame to played there, too."

"The Covenant owns a few buildings in Venice." Irina added, after consulting the file.

"It seems Venice it is, then." Dad said, finishing his coffee with a final swallow.

"You're coming?" Irina asked Dad.

"Of course I'm coming!" Dad growled. "She's my daughter!"

I cleared my throat before my parents could start another argument. "If we're going to do this, we might as well do it right." Before either of them could reply, I'd flipped open my cell and dialled Liam.

"Hello?" Liam answered on the second ring. "Sydney?"

I knew Liam had to be worried by now; Sark and I were supposed to have checked in before now. Careful of my audience, I didn't use his name. "Sloane has Julian." I said. "I need the plane."

"Where are you?" Liam asked, his voice immediately tense. "Where's Sloane taking Julian?"

"I think they're somewhere in Venice." I replied. "Irina helped me back in Brazil. We're in Los Angeles talking to my father."

Liam was silent for a moment as he digested the information. "I can be there in six hours." He said finally.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked him.

"You're not leaving me out of this, Syd." Liam's Irish brogue was thick, his anger obvious. "There's a deserted airstrip on the outskirts of LA. I'll meet you there."

I nodded, even though Liam couldn't see it. "We'll be there." I said and hung up.

My parents looked at me with the same look of wariness and curiosity. "I've got a plane picking us up in six hours." I said. "So, we've got six hours to figure out exactly which of those buildings Sloane is in."

Dad nodded. "I'll get the blueprints." He said with a sigh.

* * *

Six hours later, Dad, Irina and I stood on the edge of the deserted airstrip watching Sark's plane taxi to a halt in front of us. My sunglasses hid my eyes and my hair whipped around my face in the wind. I stood impassively against the hood of our rented car, while my parents tensed beside me.

I stepped forward when the door opened, then almost stumbled when Liam's green eyes winked at me from underneath a pilot's cap. Covering it quickly, I hurried into the plane. Instead of the usual pilot, it seemed Liam was flying this one. "There's gear for you in the overhead lockers." Liam said softly before my parents joined us. "If you need me in Venice, Syd, just say the word."

I smiled softly. "I will." I replied, before moving further into the plane and Liam retreated back into the cockpit and closed the door.

My parents chose that moment to enter the place; Dad seemed a little impressed, while Irina just breezed in like she owned the place. I shut the door after them and Dad paused as he passed. "You've moved up in the world." He whispered to me, not without humour.

I smiled back. "Well, there are some perks to being a wanted woman."

My father's smile in return was tinged with sadness and I squeezed his arm in reassurance. "You'd better take a seat." I said. "We'll be taking off soon."

Even as I spoke, I heard the discrete chime that indicated Liam was ready to take off. Dad and I took a seat as Liam expertly flew the plane up and away from LA.

* * *

Venice

The flight to Venice was tense and strained. Despite the growing trust and understanding between us, Dad, Irina and I were still rather uncomfortable around each other. I had ended up taking refuge in the cockpit with Liam halfway through the flight. We had discussed what Liam knew of Sloane and the Covenant – with the help of my regaining memories, I had managed to narrow it done to one building. The same building I was currently staring at. Rambaldi's manor.

I was dressed in black combat gear, my makeup and mask of confident agent carefully in place. Dad and Irina crouched beside me, scoping out Sloane's new hideout. So far I could only see one way in – and that was through the front door.

"There's no way in through the back." Dad said, looking through his night-vision binoculars.

"Or through the front, except through the front door." Irina added, gazing through her own binoculars.

Suddenly, I for an incredibly bad feeling in my gut – it was actually physically painful. Sark was in serious trouble! I didn't have time to wait anymore!

While my parents were still arguing about the best way into the building, I quietly moved backwards, before slipping off the roof of the building across the street from Sloane's and down the stairs. I had to move slowly, so as not to alert Dad or Irina, and it was hard to ignore the part of my mind screaming "Run!". I dropped the earpiece I wore, knowing if Sloane saw it, he'd know I hadn't com alone. Then I took a deep breath and walked right up to the front door.

"Tell Sloane that Sydney Bristow is here." I growled to the guards at the front door. "I'm here to take back what's mine."

With a snarl, the goons roughly threw me against the wall and frisked me carefully. They removed my fun, several knives, my scrambler and my mines and detonators, but missed the knife hidden in my boot and the C4 and small detonator in my bra. I wasn't a superspy for nothing. "Come with me." One of the goons growled in a heavy Italian accent.

The goons led me inside, one in front of me and one behind. I kept my face in a cold mask of indifference and prepared to meet the Devil. The goons led me down a richly decorated corridor to an equally-richly decorated room that was eerily familiar to me. For a surreal moment, I was both Isabella Rambaldi and Julia Thorne. I had seen this room as both of them.

"Sydney." Sloane's voice brought me back to the present. "I'm so glad you could join our little party."

Coming back to myself, I glanced around the room and noticed the details that had escaped me before. A large desk ran along one side of the room, and hog-tied to chairs in front of it, was Vaughn and Lauren. I arched an eyebrow in Sloane's direction and smirked, a la Sark. "And it seems like quite a party."

Sloane chuckled. "Please, have a seat." He said.

"Thanks, but I'm not staying." I said. "You have something of mine and I want him back."

Sloane gave me an evil smile. "I wouldn't worry about Mr. Sark." He told me. "Anna is making sure he's quite comfortable."

I felt my eyes turn to ice and all warmth fled from my face. "If he dies," I growled. "I will make it my life's purpose to find just how many ways I can make you scream."

Sloane chuckled again, but part of me was very pleased to see he had paled ever so slightly and there was a hint of fear in those remorseless eyes. "You remind me so much of your mother, Sydney." He smirked.

"Good." I smirked right back. "Then we both know just what I'm capable of."

"You wouldn't, Sydney." Sloane replied. "You're not a monster."

"Oh, but I am." In that second, I morphed back into Julia Thorne and the words came out in a throaty purr; yet the sound was somehow icy cold. "You were the one who taught me how to kill in cold-blood, weren't you, Arvin?"

Sloane definitely paled this time, fear obviously gripping him when he heard the faint British accent in my words. He knew then that I remembered; just like e knew I would not stop until he was dead. "Kill her!" he ordered.

I took out the goons in under thirty seconds – which was just enough time for Sloane to escape. Cursing, I scavenged the bodies for anything of use, which included two automatics and space clips. Then I finally turned to Vaughn and his wife. Both of them were gagged and were watching me with wary eyes.

"Are you going to try and stop me if I untie you?" I asked them.

Vaughn regarded me coolly for a long moment; I stared just as coolly back. Then he shook his head. "Good." I said, before removing his gag. "My aim is to stop Sloane and destroy Tambaldi's endgame. Anything else is yours."

"What about Sark?" Vaughn asked, rubbing feeling back into his wrists as I moved onto untying Lauren.

"He leaves here with me." I answered, implacable. "Or I tie you right back up."

Vaughn nodded again after a moment and I resumed untying Lauren. "You're Adrian Lazarey's killer." She said as soon as her gag was free.

I nodded sadly. "Yeah." I answered. "Sloane's orders."

Seeing Lauren and Vaughn exchange a look, I had to smile at the righteous indignation on their faces. "If you want the details, you'll have to ask Kendall." I said.

"Kendall?" Vaughn echoed.

"He was my handler." I explained, letting the implication sink in. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a madman to stop."

I left Vaughn and Lauren there and headed for the basement. Rambaldi had built a fiant maze under this house and at the centre of it was the chamber Sloane was using to assemble his endgame. I knew that just as well as I knew Sark was in mortal danger.

Shooting the two goons that tried to stope me, I headed down a set of stairs I recognised from Isabella's memories. I was surprised it was so easy – at least, I was until I heard the gunfire. Someone else had joined the party. Using the distraction I had been given, killing the two goons that were headed up. I reached a set of gilt doors and snarled when I found them locked. Fine. It's not like they didn't know I was coming anyway. I dug the C4 and detonator out of my bra and blew the lock with a satisfying bang.

"Wait!"

I spun to find Vaughn and Lauren hurrying down the stairs towards me, both now armed. "You can't do this alone." Vaughn said when they reached me.

"I'm doing this no matter what." I told them. "But I won't say no to the help. Just one question: why?"

"You're not the only one who wants to stop Sloane." Lauren answered.

And so began our uneasy truce. With a nod, I raced through the now open doors and shot the goons waiting for us on the other side. Then, using instinct and memory, I began weaving my way through the maze. I knew just which way to go from my shared memories of Isabella, and I could see that after a while it began to unnerve both Vaughn and Lauren.

I stared at the three tunnels in front of me. "Left." I said, again choosing the way towards the centre with surreal accuracy.

"How do you know that?" Vaughn asked, somewhat exasperated, from behind me.

I slid him a glance as I went left. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." Vaughn said.

With another look, I told him the whole story of Rambaldi and Isabella, only leaving out any mention of the diary and Bennetti. "See?" I said. "I told you that you wouldn't believe me."

"Actually, the scary part is that I do." Vaughn disagreed.

I turned back to look at him and saw he was telling the truth – he _did_ believe me. I wanted to ask why, but now was not the time. "It's not far now." I said instead.

True to my word, we opened out into the centre chamber about five minutes later. The sight that confronted me stopped me dead in my tracks. A large machine that seemed familiar, yet strange, took up most of the entire room. It was made of metal and attached to it were wires and tubes that hung everywhere. On an altar of sort, Sloane stood, a vast array of crystals in front of him forming some sort of control panel. But the truly horrifying part of this scene was the stone altar on which Sark lay, dressed only in his jeans and attached to the machine.

Tears slipped down my face as I stared horror-struck at Sark, who looked paler than death and the red tubes that connected him to the machine meant to end the world – tubes that were coloured by the blood running through them. Anna stood over him, grinning maliciously.

"Julian!" I screamed.

An evil chuckle sounded as Sloane looked on, his eyes gleaming with fanatic light as he neared the goal he had been dreaming of for so long. "Hello, Isabella." He said, in a voice that was not only his, but Rambaldi's as well.

I looked up at him, suddenly both Sydney and Isabella. As disorientating as it was, Isabella and I were of the same mind – we had to free Sark and destroy Sloane. I raised my gun up at the man who had been so much to both of us; tormentor, captor, father. "Now, Isabella." Sloane-Rambaldi said. "You have a choice: kill me or save the man you love."

Aiming carefully, I shot the crystal I could see glittering just over Sloane-Rambaldi's shoulder; instinctively I knew it would stop the machine, if only for a little while. Sloane-Rambaldi howled in pain and outrage, but I completely ignored him. I barely even noticed Anna fleeing the scene or Vaughn and Lauren chasing after her. I only had eyes for the man I loved. I rushed to Sark's side, ripping the tubes from him and sobbing in absolute despair. Was I too late?

"Julian?" I whispered brokenly, as I cupped his beloved face and vainly tried to stop the blood welling from the various cuts on his arms and chest. "Please answer me, Julian. I need you to be alive. Please be alive."

Sark did not answer my pleas, nor did he move. His eyes remained shut and his skin was far too pale. "Please, love." I said. "Please wake up!"

"How touching." Sloane-Rambaldi growled softly in my ear, a split-second before he yanked me backwards by my hair. "But its time for you to die, you little bitch."

I groaned in pain as he slammed me viciously into the ground. I barely slammed my hands up in time to protect my head from being slammed into the stone floor. In my haste to free Sark, I had left my gun lying beside him on the altar. Not that I was unarmed. I reached for the knife in my boot and came up swinging. I sliced Sloane-Rambaldi across the cheek and kicked him in the chest when he hesitated. He let out a scream of inhuman rage, before charging at me.

He slammed me backwards into the stone floor, driving the wind from my lungs and the knife from my hand. I struggled beneath him, freeing my arms enough to start punching him in the face and chest; anything I could reach. He reared back off me a little, giving me some more room and space enough to gain my breath. I slammed my elbow into his gut and was about to reach up to grab him by the neck and twist him off me, when a gunshot sounded in all the chaos.

Blood blossomed on Sloane-Rambaldi's chest an instant before he was shot again and again. When I heard the click of an empty clip, I finally turned around to see who had killed the monster who had been haunting me for so long. Tears poured down my cheeks as I laughed in shocked delight. Sark was sitting up on the altar, my gun in his hand and still aimed at Sloane-Rambaldi.

"Julian!" I cried, scrambling to push Sloane's body off me and race to his side.

He turned to face me, still pale but looking much better than he had only minutes before. "Syd." He breathed, before he reached out and crushed me to him.

His lips found mine in a breathless and passionate kiss that turned my blood to fire and echoed the desperation I felt. My heart had completely stopped in that devastating second I believed I had lost him…

Breathing hard, I broke away, tears still filling my eyes. I reached up, my fingers tracing over his beloved face, as if reassuring me he was here and he was alive. "Don't ever scare me like that again." I told him.

Sark's eyes were also shining brightly in the flickering light. "I don't ever want to scare myself again like that, either." He replied.

We shared a smile, and for a brief moment, I felt almost as if Isabella and Edward were standing beside us. "Thank you." The whisper echoed in my head and I could tell from the expression of awe in Sark's eyes that he had heard it too.

Gathering my strength and determination about me once more, I helped Sark off the altar and turned to face the hissing and groaning machine that Rambaldi had designed to end the world. Our task was not done until we had destroyed that as well. "We need to blow it." I said, Sark's arm around my shoulders, both in an effort to help him stand and because we did not want to let each other go.

"If we do, this whole place will go up with it." Sark told me.

I looked at him and noticed the similar determination in his beloved blue eyes. "Do we have a choice?" I asked dryly.

Sark gave me a sad smile. "Let's do it."

I nodded and picked up a spare gun from the ground; probably the second one I had dropped earlier. I handed Sark and spare clip and then together, we turned and fired at the crystal control panel. When every crystal was destroyed, I heard the machine give an almighty groan and its rumble changed from one of mechanics working, to one that signalled its immanent destruction.

Sark and I headed back towards the maze as fast as we could, hoping that the twists and turns would protect us from the blast. Then the world erupted into flame and the whole building exploded into rubble.

To Be Continued…

* * *

Author's Note 2: Please do not worry!! This story will have a happy ending…but it needed the cliffhanger first! I'll try and get the final chapter up soon, but in the mean time…you could always tell me what you think. Please?

Cheeky.


	14. New Life

**Never Broken**

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Fourteen:

Los Angeles

One month later

Jack Bristow stared sadly at the wall in front of him. Covered with the stars and names of all the agents who had never returned from their missions, the wall held a special significance to him. After all, right there carved into the black marble was his daughter's name – amongst the ranks of brave agents who had made the ultimate sacrifice. Jack thought it fitting; Sydney had given more than just her life to stop a madman from destroying the world.

"I still can't believe everything that's happened over the last two months." A quiet voice said from beside him.

Jack looked over and spotted Michael Vaughn. His eyes reflected the same sadness Jack felt, but the younger man was taking it more in his stride than Jack could. "Or that you're leaving the CIA." Vaughn added.

"There's nothing left for me here anymore." Jack replied.

Vaughn nodded, as if he knew what Jack meant – Jack doubted he really did. "Not even the chance to finally catch Irina?" Vaughn asked.

Jack had to smile softly at that thought. "Irina Derevko is a woman who will only be caught if she wants to be." He said. "I'd rather not spend the rest of my life chasing a ghost."

Vaughn quirked his eyebrow at that, but didn't say anything. He, like most of the other agents in the LA offices, had noticed that Jack Bristow was not the man he used to be. His daughter's first death had been hard on him, but this one…this one looked as if it had broken him. It was one of the reasons Vaughn knew that Sydney was really gone this time. Jack had a sickly look to him now and it was obvious he had lost weight. Everyone knew that once Jack Bristow retired, no one would ever see or hear from him again.

Shifting his eyes back to the wall, he gazed one last time at the name of the woman who had been so much to him. Already a legend, the tales of her exploits would only grow over the years, Vaughn knew. Whole generations of agents would grow up listening to tales of the great Sydney Bristow. Somehow, Vaughn thought that was the best memorial for Syd anyone could ever think of. "Goodbye, Syd." He whispered as he turned to watch Jack walk away. "Watch over your father. I think he needs it."

Vaughn never noticed the knowing smile that Jack quickly hid when he overheard the soft words – nor did he see the life that suddenly danced in his eyes. No one did. It was probably just as well…if they had, people might start to wonder why a man who was supposed to have just lost his daughter was fighting the urge to grin like a loon.

* * *

Caribbean

I smiled softly as I walked barefoot down the beautiful beach as the sun set in a blaze of fire. The slight breeze toyed with my hair, which tumbled loose down my back, and I breathed in the scent of salt and frangipanis as the tropical blue water of the sea lapped gently over my feet. I ignored the few curiously stares some of the tourists gave me as I wandered along the magnificent Flammands beach on the small island of Saint-Barthelemy. I knew what I looked like amongst the palm trees; my short blood-red dress and the strappy stilettos I held negligently in my hand would be more comfortable on a French catwalk than a Caribbean beach.

Not that I really cared what they thought. I was headed to Henri's, a little beachside club where the music was vibrant and the laughter was loud. I began to hear the sounds of salsa as I neared the small club and I let the beat was over me as I wove my way off the sand, pausing only to put on my shoes. Grinning madly, I sauntered my way over to the bar, hips swinging as I went, before winking at Henri, who stood behind the bar.

"Hello, gorgeous." Henri greeted with a grin and a wink of his own. "Here all by your lonesome tonight?"

Henri was a former US Marine who gave up military life to own a bar by an exotic beach. He had a French mother and an African-American father (also a former Marine) and as a result, he was big and broad-shouldered, had exotic cocoa skin that suited island life and could speak impeccable French. He wore his long hair in dreadlocks and rarely ever wore shoes. Tonight, he was dressed in torn and faded jeans and a black T-shirt.

I grinned wickedly back at him in response to his teasing question. "For now. But the night is still young."

Henri threw back and laughed loudly as he poured me my favourite cocktail. He called it a "Henri", but all I knew was it was bright red and had an awful lot of rum in it. "Oh, Annie!" he grinned at me, setting the cocktail in front of me with his usual flourish. "You just have to say the word and we'll run away together…"

"Are you trying to seduce my wife again, Henri?" an amused sounding British voice asked from behind me.

"Monsieur Archer!" Henri greeted happily, as I felt a warm hand slide across my bare back. "Would I ever do such a thing?"

"Every chance you get." Sark said with a grin. "And how many times do I have to tell you, it's Julian."

Henri shook his head. "You know, it would be so much easier to seduce your wife if I didn't like you so much." He reflected, before winking at both of us.

"You could always try seducing your own wife, Henri Barrett!" Henri's wife, Martine, called out.

I grinned and took another sip of my cocktail. Henri wandered down the bar to talk to his wife. Martine was a stunning brunette who was born and raised on the island. Her tanned skin was as exotic as her husbands and her vibrant blue eyes were always twinkling with mischief. I would've paid more attention to their conversation, but Sark took that moment to lean down and place a long and leisurely kiss on my lips.

"Mmmm." I said when Sark drew away again. "Hello Julian."

Sark gave me an amused smirk. He looked gorgeous tonight, with his golden hair glinting in the light and his eyes a stormy blue. He still wore black, but these days it was only pants and a shirt. A shirt that wasn't even buttoned up all the way – just the way I liked it! "Hello, Syd." He whispered back.

It still seemed a little surreal, but Sark and I had been living on this island for a month now. Thanks to Liam and some well-placed C4, we had managed to escape from the building in Venice just before it blew up. And with a few handy tricks, we had managed to steal back Sark's 18 billion too. My name might have changed to Anne Archer and everyone I had known might think I was dead…but I was with the man I loved and that was all that mattered.

"Can I have his dance, Madame Archer?" Sark asked me.

I smiled. "You may, Monsieur Archer." I replied, placing my hand in his and I felt a jolt of happiness when I saw the two small golden wedding bands glinting on our fingers.

Sark led me to the dance floor and we began to dance to the music. Thanks to Henri, I was getting quite good at the salsa – he'd been giving me lessons. A few songs later, the band began to play a slow song and I saw Henri give me a wink, just before he whirled Martine into his arms for a dance. I shook my head slightly in amusement, as Sark gathered me close and we swayed to the music.

After a while, I began to get the feeling Sark wanted to ask me something. "What?" I asked, looking up at his face.

Sark gazed back, his expression curious and the faintest hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Do you ever miss it, Syd?" he asked softly.

"Miss what?" I arched an eyebrow in confusion and question.

"Our former lives." He replied. "Your friends. Your job."

I looked up at him and could feel a slightly amused and slightly inquiring smile curved my lips. Answering his seriously, I shrugged gently. "I miss Marshall. I miss my Dad." I said. "But, no, I don't miss my old life. I have everything I want right here."

Sark leaned down and gave me another kiss. "I still don't what I did to deserve you, Syd." He whispered. "But it must have been good."

With a groaning expression, I shook my head and laughed. "Julian…" I began, but I caught sight of something I never expected to see again.

I sent Julian a sharp look. "This is what you've been up to, isn't it?" I growled, before I spoiled everything completely by breaking into a large grin.

Sark smiled back. "Go." He said.

I didn't need to be told twice. I turned and watched the figure of my father weave through the crowd towards me as I walked over to me him. "Dad." I whispered as I gave him a hug.

"Sweetheart." My Dad whispered back.

We clung to each other for a moment, before stepping back. "I read the diary." My dad said as we waited for Sark and Liam to catch up; I'd caught sight of Liam trailing behind dad, as he allowed us our privacy. "I never knew…"

I held my hand up to stop his words. "I understand, Dad." I told him. "I might not like it, but I understand why you did all those things."

Dad nodded, his expression one of guilt and relief. "I quit the CIA." Dad changed the subject to less painful matters. "Jack Bristow has disappeared for good."

He reached out and handed me a small card. "If you ever need to reach me, Syd, just call that number." He added.

I nodded. "Thanks, Dad." I replied. "But why don't you just stay here?"

Dad shook his head. "There's things I want to do." He said, smiling a little, which was strange for my dad; he looked more relaxed and at ease finally.

Sark walked up at that moment and came to stand close behind me. My father gave him a cautious nod and Sark returned the gesture. "I'll be back to visit." Dad said.

"But you have to go now." I finished for him, not needing him to say the words to understand.

"The CIA or even the remnants of the Covenant could be tracking me." Dad said. "I can't afford to stay long this time. But I promise my next visit will be longer."

I nodded as Dad turned to walk away. Then he turned back. "Be happy, sweetheart." He said softly.

"You too, Dad." I replied.

Sark's arms came up to wrap around me as I watched my Dad walk away. "He will be back." Sark whispered in my ear.

"I know." I said.

We stood there for a long moment, watching the spot where Dad had disappeared, before Sark tugged me back towards the dance floor. "Come on, Syd." He said. "The night is still young."

I let my lips curve into a smile, banishing my sadness at watching Dad leave. "Well, then…" I said. "Let's dance!"

* * *

To the world, Julian Sark and Sydney Bristow were dead; tragically killed in the explosion in Venice that also destroyed Rambaldi's endgame. I had it on good authority that Sydney Anne Bristow got her star on the wall of heroes at the CIA – the one they had never really managed to take down after Hong Kong. On the other side of the world, Julian Archer, millionaire and businessman, arrived on the small Caribbean island of Saint-Barthelemy to marry his lover, Anne. It was a small ceremony, with only three guests – a silver-haired man and a stunning brunette who seemed to always argue, yet never took their eyes off each other and a man with laughing green eyes and an Irish lilt.

The mysterious couple bought a house on a remote bluff near the isolate Colombier beach. No one really knew where they where they came from, but after a while they stopped caring. The couple was obviously very much in love and those that knew them delighted in imagining dramatic tales of love and vengeful fathers that had forced the lovers to flee to the island. No one knew just how close that had been to the truth of it. If Julian occasionally called his wife "Syd," and was often seen running or training martial arts on the beach near his home, most islanders just chalked it up to the eccentricities of the rich. And if Anne once knocked out a very large man with ease after he had been hassling her, while her husband looked on with a slight smirk, people just shrugged their shoulders and smiled.

Their pasts did not matter; it was their future that was important. It did not matter whether they were known as Isabella and Edward or Sydney and Julian – they were free.

And unbroken.

The End


End file.
